TORCHY 


FORD 


THE  LIBRARY 

OF 

THE  UNIVERSITY 
OF  CALIFORNIA 

LOS  ANGELES 

GIFT  OF 

Richard  iJetrie 


I   FOUND    MYSELF   LOOKING    SQUARE    INTO   THEM    BIG   GRAY    EYES. 

Front  is  Pie 


TORCH  Y 


BY 

SEWELL  FORD 

Author  of 
TRYING  OUT  TORGHY,  ODD  NUMBERS.  ETC. 


Illustrations  by 
GEORGE  BREHM 

AND 
JAMES  MONTGOMERY  FLAGG 


NEW    YORK 

GROSSET    &    DUNLAP 

PUBLISHERS 


COFTBICHT,  1909,  1910,  BT 

SBWELL  FORD 

COPTBIGHT,  1911,  BT 

EOWARD  J.  CLODB 


TO   MY 
TRULY   YOUTHFUL   AND   GENIAL   FRIEND 

m  a.  '<#. 

AT   WHOSE    SUGGESTION    THIS 
CHRONICLE   OF  THE   DOINGS    OF   TORCHY 

CAME   TO   BE   MADE 


CONTENTS 


CHAPTER 

I.  GETTING  IN  WITH  THE  GLORY  BE 

II.  A  JOLT  FOR  PIDDIE 

III.  MEETING  UP  WITH  THE  GREAT  SKID 

IV.  FROSTING  THE  PROFESS 

V.  WHERE  MILDRED  GOT  NEXT 

VI.  SHUNTING  BROTHER  BILL     .        . 

VII.  KEEPING  TABS  ON  PIDDIE    .        . 

VIII.  A  WHIRL  WITH  KAZEDKY    . 

IX.  DOWN  THE  BDMPS  WITH  CLIFFY 

X.  BACKING  OUT  OF  A  FLUFF  RIOT  . 

XI.  RUNG  IN  WITH  THE  GOLD  SPOONERS 

XII.  LANDING  ON  A  SIDE  STREET 

XIII.  FIRST  AID  FOR  THE  MAIN  STEM 

XIV.  IN  ON  THE  OOLONG 

XV.  BATTING  IT  UP  TO  TORCHY  . 

XVI.  THROWING  THE  LINE  TO  SKID     . 

XVII.  TOUCHING  ON  TINK  TUTTLE 

XVIII.  GETTING  HERMES  ON  THE  BOUNCE 

XIX.  WHEN  Miss  VEE  THREW  THE  DARE 


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TORCHY 

CHAPTER  I 

GETTING  IN  WITH  THE  GLOEY  BE 

SURE,  I  was  carryin'  the  banner.  But  say, 
I  ain't  one  of  them  kids  that  gets  cal 
louses  on  the  hands  doin'  it.  When  I'm 
handed  the  fresh  air  on  payday,  I  don't  choke 
to  death  over  it.  I  goes  out  and  rustles  for 
another  job.  And  I  takes  my  pick,  too.  Why 
not?  It's  just  as  easy. 

This  time  I  gets  a  bug  that  the  new  Octopus 
Buildin'  might  have  been  put  up  special  for 
me.  Anyway,  it  looked  good  from  the  out 
side,  and  I  blows  in  through  the  plate  glass 
merry  go  round.  The  arcade  was  all  to  the 
butterscotch,  everything  handy,  from  an  A.  D. 
T.  stand  to  Turkish  baths  in  the  basement. 

"  Got  any  express  elevators?  "  says  I  to  the 
starter  guy. 

"  Think  of  buying  the  buildin',  sonny?  "  says 
he. 

"  There  M  be  room  for  you  on  the  sidewalk 
if  I  did,"  says  I.  "  But  say,  if  you  can  tear 


2  TOUCHY 

your  eyes  off  the  candy  counter  queen  long 
enough,  tell  me  who's  got  a  sign  out  this 
mornin'." 

"  They're  going  to  elect  a  second  vice-presi 
dent  of  the  Interurban  to-day.  Would  that 
suit  you?  "  says  he,  twistin'  up  his  lip  whisker 
and  lookin'  cute. 

"  Maybe,"  says  I;  "  but  I'd  take  a  portfolio 
as  head  office  boy  if  I  knew  where  to  butt  in." 

"  Then  chase  up  to  2146,"  says  he.  "  You'll 
find  'em  waitin'  for  you  with  a  net.  Here's 
your  car.  Up!  "  and  before  I  knows  it  I  has 
done  the  skyrocket  act  up  to  floor  twenty-one. 

Well  say,  you  wouldn't  have  thought  so  many 
kids  read  the  want  ads.  and  had  the  courage 
to  tackle  an  early  breakfast.  The  corridor  was 
full  of  'em,  all  sizes,  all  kinds.  It  looked  like 
recess  time  at  a  boys'  orphan  asylum,  and  with 
me  against  the  field  I  stood  to  be  a  sure  loser. 
I  hadn't  no  more'n  climbed  out  before  they 
starts  to  throw  the  josh  my  way. 

"  Hey,  Eeddy,  get  in  line!  The  foot  for 
yours,  Peachblow!  "  they  yells  at  me. 

And  then  I  comes  back.  * '  Ah,  flag  it !  "  says 
I.  "  Do  I  look  like  I  belonged  in  your  class? 
Brush  by,  you  three-dollar  pikers,  and  give  a 
salaried  man  a  show!  " 

With  that  I  makes  a  quick  rush  at  2146  and 
gets  through  the  door  before  they  has  time 
to  make  a  howl.  The  letterin'  on  the  ground 


IN  WITH  THE  GLOEY  BE  3 

glass  was  what  got  me.  It  said  as  how  this 
was  the  home  office  of  the  Glory  Be  Mining 
Company,  and  there  was  a  string  of  high-toned 
names  as  long  as  your  arm.  But  the  minute 
I  sizes  up  the  inside  exhibit  I  wasn't  so  anxious. 
I  was  lookin'  for  about  a  thousand  feet  of  floor 
space;  but  all  I  could  see  was  a  couple  of  six 
by  nines,  includin'  a  clothes  closet  and  a  corner 
washbowl.  There  was  a  grand  aggregation  of 
two  as  an  office  force.  One  was  a  young  lady 
key  pounder,  with  enough  hair  piled  on  top  of 
her  head  to  stuff  a  mattress.  The  other  was 
a  long  faced  young  feller  with  an  ostrich  neck 
and  a  voice  that  sounded  like  a  squeaky  door. 

"  Go  outside!  "  says  he,  wavin'  his  hands 
and  puttin'  on  a  weary  look.  "  Mr.  Pepper 
can't  see  any  of  you  until  he  has  finished  with 
the  mail.  Now  run  along." 

"  I  can't,"  says  I;  "  my  feet  won't  let  me. 
Is  that  the  Pepper  box  in  there?  ' 

The  door  was  open  a  foot  or  two;  so  I  steps 
up  to  take  a  peek  at  the  main  squeeze.  And 
say,  the  minute  I  sees  him  I  knew  he  'd  do.  He 
wa'n't  one  of  these  dried  up  whiskered  freaks, 
nor  he  wa'n't  any  human  hog,  with  no  neck  and 
three  chins.  He  was  the  kind  of  a  gent  you 
see  comin'  out  of  them  swell  cafes,  and  he 
looked  like  a  winner,  Mr.  Belmont  Pepper  did. 
His  breakfast  seemed  to  be  settin'  as  well  as  his 
coat  collar,  and  you  could  tell  with  one  eye 


4  TOECHY 

that  he  wouldn't  come  snoopin'  around  early 
in  the  day,  nor  hang  around  the  shop  after  five. 
Pepper  has  his  heels  up  on  the  rolltop,  burnin' 
u  real  Havana.  That's  the  kind  of  a  boss  I 
likes.  I  lays  out  to  connect,  too. 

"  Say,"  says  I  to  the  long  faced  duck,  "  you 
hold  your  breath  a  minute  and  I'll  be  back!  ' 

Then  I  steps  outside,  yanks  the  "  Boy 
Wanted  "  sign  off  the  nail,  and  says  to  the 
crowd  good  and  brisk,  just  as  though  I  come 
direct  from  headquarters: 

"  It's  all  over,  kids,  and  unless  you're 
waitin'  to  have  a  group  picture  taken  you'd 
better  hit  the  elevator." 

Wow!  There  was  call  for  another  sudden 
move  just  then.  I  was  lookin'  for  that,  though, 
and  by  the  time  the  first  two  of  'em  struck 
the  door  I  was  on  the  other  side  with  the  key 
turned.  Riot?  Well  say,  you'd  thought  I'd 
pinched  the  only  job  in  New  York!  They 
kicked  on  the  door  and  yelled  through  the  tran 
som  and  got  themselves  all  worked  up. 

The  lady  key  pounder  grabs  hold  of  both 
sides  of  her  table  and  almost  swallows  her 
tuttifrutti,  the  ostrich  necked  chap  turns  pea 
green,  and  Mr.  Pepper  swings  his  door  open, 
and  sings  out,  real  cheerful : 

'  Mr.  Sweetwater,  can't  you  get  yourself 
mobbed  without  being  so  noisy  about  it?  What's 
up,  anyway?  " 


IK  WITH  THE  GLOEY  BE  5 

But  Sweetwater  wasn't  a  lightnin'  calculator. 
He  stands  there  with  his  mouth  open,  gawp  in' 
at  me,  and  tryin'  to  figure  out  what's  broke 
loose ;  so  I  pushes  to  the  front  and  helps  him  out. 

"  There's  a  bunch  of  also  rans  nut  there, 
Mr.  Pepper,"  says  I,  "  that  don't  know  when 
to  fade.  They're  just  grouchy  because  I've 
swiped  the  job." 

I  was  lookin'  for  him  to  sit  up  at  that;  but 
he  don't.    "  What  makes  you  think  that  you've 
got  it?  "  says  he. 

II  'Cause  I'm  in  and  they're  out,"  says  I. 
"  Anyway,  they're  a  lot  of  dopes,  and  a  man 
like  you  wants  a  live  one  around.    That's  me. 
Where  do  I  begin?  '     And  I  chucks  the  sign 
into   a  waste  basket  and  hangs  my  cap   on 
a  hook. 

Now,  that  ain't  any  system  you  can  follow 
reg'lar.  I  don't  often  do  it  that  way,  'cause  I 
ain't  any  fonder  of  bein'  thrown  through  a 
--  door  than  the  next  one.  But  this  was  a  long 
shot  and  I  was  willin'  to  run  the  risk.  That 
fat  headed  starter  knew  he  was  steerin'  me  up 
against  a  mob ;  so  I  was  just  achin '  to  squeeze 
the  lemon  in  his  eye  by  makin'  good. 

For  awhile,  though,  I  couldn't  tell  whether 
I  was  up  in  a  balloon  or  let  in  on  the  ground 
floor.  Mr.  Pepper  was  givin'  me  the  search 
warrant  look-over,  and  I  see  he's  one  of  these 
gents  that  you  can't  jar  easy.  I  hadn't  rushed 


6  TOBCHY 

him  off  his  feet  by  my  through  the  center  play. 
There  was  still  plenty  of  chance  of  my  gettin' 
the  low  tackle. 

"  If  I  might  ask,"  says  he,  smooth  as  a  silk 
lid,  "  what  is  your  name?  ' 

"  Ah,  w'at's  the  use?  "  says  I,  duckin'  my 
head.  "  Look  at  that  hair !  You  might's  well 
begin  callin'  me  Torchy;  you'd  come  to  it." 

He  didn't  grin  nor  nothin';  but  only  I  see  his 
eyes  wrinkle  a  little  at  the  corners.  "  Very 
well,  Torchy,"  says  he.  "  I  suppose  you  have 
your  references?  " 

"  Nah,  I  ain't,"  says  I.  "  But  if  you're 
stuck  on  such  things  I  can  get  'em.  There's 
a  feller  down  on  Ann-st.  that'll  write  beauts  for 
a  quarter  a  throw." 

"  So?  "  says  he.  "  Then  we'll  pass  that 
point.  Why  did  you  leave  your  last  place?  " 

"  By  request,"  says  I.  "  The  stiff  gives  me 
the  fire.  He  said  I  was  too  fresh." 

"  He  was  mistaken,  I  suppose,"  says  Mr. 
Pepper.  "  You're  not  fresh,  are  you?  " 

"  Well  say,  I  ain't  no  last  year's  limed  egg," 
says  I.  "If  you  're  lookin '  for  somethin '  that 's 
been  in  the  brine  all  winter,  you'd  better  put 
the  hook  in  again." 

He  rubs  his  chin  at  that.  "  Do  you  like  hard 
work?  "  says  he. 

"  Think  I'd  be  chasin'  up  an  offiee  boy  snap, 
if  I  did?  "  says  I. 


IN  WITH  THE  GLORY  BE  7 

He  takes  a  minute  or  so  to  let  that  soak  in, 
knockin'  his  cigar  ashes  off  on  the  rug  in  that 
careless  way  a  man  that  ain't  married  does, 
and  then  he  springs  another. 

' '  I  presume  that  if  you  were  left  alone  in  the 
office  occasionally,"  says  he,  "  you  could  learn 
to  run  the  business?  " 

"  Nix,  not!  "  says  I.  "  When  I  plays  my 
self  for  a  confidential  manager  I  wants  to  pull 
down  more  than  four  per.  Givin'  book  agents 
the  quick  back  up  and  runnin'  errands  is  my 
strong  points.  For  tips  on  the  market  and  such 
as  that  I  charges  overtime." 

Course,  I'd  figured  it  was  all  off  by  then, 
seein'  as  how  I  hadn't  rung  the  bell  at  any 
crack.  That's  why  I  was  so  free  with  the  hot 
air.  Mr.  Pepper,  he  squints  at  me  good  and 
hard,  and  then  pushes  the  call  button. 

11  Mr.  Sweetwater,"  says  he,  "  this  young 
man's  name  is  Torchy.  I've  persuaded  him  to 
assist  us  in  running  the  affairs  of  the  Glory  Be 
Mining  Company.  Put  him  on  the  payroll  at 
five  a  week,  and  then  induce  that  mass  meeting 
in  the  corridor  to  adjourn." 

"Say,"  says  I,  "does  that  mean  I'm 
picked!  " 

"  You're  the  chosen  one,"  says  he. 

"Gee!"  says  I.  "You  had  me  guessin', 
though!  But  you  ain't  drawn  any  blank.  I'll 
shinny  on  your  side,  Mr.  Pepper,  as  long's 


8  TOBCHY 

you'll  let  me— and  that's  no  gust  of  wind, 
either." 

And  say,  inside  of  three  days  I'd  got  the 
minin'  business  down  to  a  science.     Course  it 
was  a  cinch.    All  I  has  to  do  is  fold  bunches  • 
of  circulars,  stick  stamps  on  the  envelopes,  andj 
lug  'em  up  to  the  general  P.  0.  once  a  day/ 
That,  and  chasin'  out  after  a  dollar's  worth 
of  cigars  now  and  then  for  Mr.  Pepper,  and 
keepin'  Sweetie  jollied  along,  didn't  make  me 
round  shouldered. 

Sweetie  was  cut  out  for  the  under takin'  busi 
ness,  by  rights.  He  took  things  hard,  he  did. 
Every  tick  of  the  clock  was  a  solemn  moment 
for  him,  and  me  gettin'  a  stamp  on  crooked  was 
a  case  that  called  for  a  heart  to  heart  talk. 
He  used  to  show  me  the  books  he  was  keepin', 
and  the  writin'  was  as  reg'lar  as  if  it'd  been 
done  on  a  job  press. 

"  You're  a  wonder,  you  are,  Sweetie,"  says 
I;  "  but  some  day  your  hand  is  going  to  jog 
gle,  and  there'll  be  a  blot  on  them  pages,  and 
then  you'll  die  of  heart  disease." 

Miss  Allen,  the  typewriter  fairy,  was  a  good 
deal  of  a  frost.  She  was  one  of  the  kind  that 
would  blow  her  lunch  money  on  havin'  her  hair 
done  like  some  actress,  and  worry  through  the 
week  on  an  apple  and  two  pieces  of  fudge  at 
noon.  I  never  had  much  use  for  her.  She 
called  me  just  Boy,  as  though  I  wa'n't  hardly 


Human  at  all.  She'd  sit  and  pat  that  hair  of 
hers  by  the  hour,  feelin'  to  see  if  all  the  diff'- 
rent  waves  and  bunches  was  still  there.  It  was 
a  work  of  art,  all  right;  but  it  didn't  leave  her 
time  to  think  of  much  else.  I  used  to  get  her 
wild  by  askin'  how  the  six  other  sisters  was 
comin'  on  these  days. 

We  didn't  have  any  great  rush  of  customers 
in  the  office.  About  twice  a  day  some  one  would 
stray  in;  but  gen 'rally  they  was  lookin'  for 
other  parties,  and  we  didn't  take  in  money 
enough  over  the  counter  to  pay  the  towel  bill. 
It  had  me  worried  some,  until  I  tumbles  that 
the  Glory  Be  was  a  mail  order  snap. 

All  them  circulars  we  sent  out  told  about 
the  mine.  And  say,  after  I'd  read  one  of  'em 
I  didn't  see  how  it  was  we  didn't  have  a  crowd 
throwin'  money  at  us.  It  was  good  readin', 
too,  almost  as  excitin'  as  a  nickel  lib'ry.  I'd 
never  been  right  next  to  a  gold  mine  before, 
and  it  got  me  bug  eyed  just  thinkin'  about  it. 

Why,  this  mine  of  ours  was  one  that  the 
Injuns  had  kept  hid  for  years  and  years,  killin' 
off  every  white  man  that  stuck  his  nose  into 
the  same  county.  But  after  awhile  a  feller  by 
the  name  of  Dakota  Dan  turned  Injun,  got 
himself  adopted  by  the  tribe,  and  monkeyed 
around  until  he  found  the  mine.  It  near 
blinded  him  the  first  squint  he  got  of  them 
big  chunks  of  gold.  The  Injuns  caught  him  at 


10  TORCHY 

it  and  finished  the  business  with  hot  irons. 
Then  they  roasted  him  over  a  fire  some  and 
turned  him  loose  to  enjoy  himself.  He  was 
tougher 'n  a  motorman,  though.  He  didn't  die 
for  years  after  that;  but  he  never  said  nothin' 
about  the  gold  mine  until  he  was  nearly  all  in. 
Then  he  told  his  oldest  boy  the  tale  and  gave 
him  a  map  of  the  place,  makin'  him  swear  he'd 
never  go  near  it.  The  boy  stuck  to  it,  too.  He 
grew  up  and  kept  a  grocery  store,  and  it  wa'n't 
until  after  he'd  died  of  lockjaw  from  runnin' 
a  rusty  nail  in  his  hand  and  the  widow  had  sold 
out  the  store  to  a  Swede  that  the  map  showed 
up.  The  Swede  swapped  the  map  to  a  soap 
drummer  for  half  a  dozen  cakes  of  scented 
shaving  sticks,  and  the  drummer  goes  explorin'. 
He  had  a  soap  drummer's  luck.  He  didn't 
find  any  Injuns  left.  Most  of  'em  had  died 
off  and  the  rest  had  joined  Wild  West  shows. 
The  gold  mine  was  there,  though,  with  chunks 
of  solid  gold  lyin'  around  as  big  as  peach 
baskets.  Mr.  Drummer  looks  until  his  eyes 
ache,  and  then  he  hikes  himself  back  East  to 
get  up  a  comp'ny  to  work  the  mine.  He'd 
just  made  plans  to  build  a  solid  gold  mansion 
on  Fifth-ave.  and  hire  John  D.  Rockefeller  for 
a  butler,  when  he  strays  into  one  of  these  Gos 
pel  missions  and  gets  religion  so  hard  that  he 
can't  shake  it.  Then  he  sees  how  selfish  it 
would  be  to  keep  all  that  gold  fo«r  himself. 


IN  WITH  THE  GLORY  BE  11 

"  But  how '11  I  divvy  it!  "  says  he.  "  And 
who  with?  " 

Then  he  decides  that  he'll  divide  with  min 
isters,  because  they'll  use  it  best.  So  he  gets 
up  this  Glory  Be  Mining  Company,  and  hires 
Mr.  Pepper  to  sell  the  stock  at  twenty-five  cents 
a  share  to  all  the  preachers  in  the  country. 

Blamed  if  it  wa'n't  straight  goods!  I  looked 
on  the  letters  we  sent  out,  and  every  last  one 
of  'em  was  to  ministers.  Talk  about  your  easy 
money !  This  was  like  pickin'  it  off  the  bushes. 
Mr.  Pepper  shows  'em  how  they  can  put  in  fifty 
or  a  hundred  dollars  and  in  three  or  four  years 
be  pullin'  out  their  thousands  in  dividends. 

You'd  thought  they'd  came  a  runnin'  at  a 
chance  like  that,  wouldn't  you?  There  we  was 
givin'  'em  a  private  hunch  on  a  proposition 
that  was  all  velvet.  But  say,  only  about  one 
in  ten  ever  hands  us  a  comeback.  It  was 
enough  to  make  a  man  turn  the  hose  on  his 
grandmother. 

Course,  a  few  of  'em  did  loosen  up  and  send 
on  real  money.  I  used  to  stand  around  and 
pipe  off  the  boss  while  he  shucked  the  mail,  and 
I  could  tell  whether  it  was  fat  or  lean  by  the 
time  it  took  him  to  eat  lunch.  The  days  when 
I  was  sent  out  to  cash  five  or  six  money  or 
ders,  and  soak  away  a  bunch  of  checks,  he'd 
call  a  cab  at  twelve- thirty  and  wouldn't  come 
back  until  near  four;  but  when  there  wa'n't 


12  TORCHY 

much  doin'  he'd  send  out  for  a  tray  and  put 
in  the  afternoon  dictatin'  names  and  addresses 
to  Miss  Allen. 

Then  there  come  a  slack  spell  that  lasted 
for  a  couple  of  weeks,  and  we  didn't  get  hardly 
any  mail  at  all,  except  from  some  crank  out 
in  Illinois  that  had  splurged  on  a  whole  ten 
dollars'  worth  of  shares,  and  wrote  in  about 
every  other  day  wantin'  to  know  when  the 
dividends  was  goin'  to  begin  comin'  his  way. 
I  heard  Miss  Allen  talkin'  it  over  with  Sweetie. 

It  was  along  about  then  that  this  duck  from 
the  postoffice  buildin'  showed  up.  He  comes 
gumshoein'  around  one  noon  hour,  while  I 
was  all  by  my  lonesome,  and  he  asks  a  whole 
lot  of  questions  that  I'd  forgot  the  answer  to. 
I  was  tellin'  the  boss  about  him  that  night 
around  closin'  up  time. 

' '  I  sized  him  up  for  one  of  them  cheap  skates 
from  the  Marshal's  office,"  says  I.  "I  didn't 
know  what  his  game  was  and  I  wa'n't  goin' 
to  give  up  all  I  knew  to  him;  so  I  tells  him  to 
call  around  to-morrow  and  you'll  load  him  up 
with  all  the  information  his  nut  can  hold.  Was 
that  right?  " 

Mr.  Pepper  seems  to  be  mighty  int 'rested  for 
awhile)  but  then  he  grins,  pats  me  on  the  shoul 
der,  and  says:  "  That  was  just  right,  Torchy, 
exactly  right.  I  couldn't  have  done  it  better 
myself." 


IN  WITH  THE  GLORY  BE  13 

But  half  an  hour  later,  after  Miss  Allen  has 
stuck  her  gum  on  the  paperweight  and  skipped, 
and  Sweetwater  has  slid  out  too,  and  just  as  I 
was  gettin'  ready  to  call  it  a  day,  Mr.  Pepper 
calls  me  in  on  the  rug. 

"  Torchy,"  says  he,  "  during  the  brief 
period  that  we  have  been  associated  in  business 

I  have  found  your  services  very  valuable  and 
your  society  very  cheering.     In  other  words, 
Torchy,  you're  all  right." 

"  There's  a  pair  of  us,  then,"  says  I. 
"  You're  as  good  as  they  make  them,  Mr. 
Pepper. ' ' 

"  Thanks,  Torchy,"  says  he,  "  thanks." 
Then  he  looks  out  of  the  window  for  a  minute 
before  he  asks  how  I'd  like  a  two-weeks'  vaca 
tion  with  pay. 

"  Well,"  says  I,  "  seein'  as  how  Coney's 
froze  up,  and  Palm  Beach  don't  agree  with  my 
health,  I'd  just  as  soon  put  them  two  weeks  in 
storage  until  July." 

'  *  I  see, ' '  says  he ;  "  but  the  fact  is,  Torchy, 
I've  had  a  sudden  call  to  go  West." 

"  Out  to  the  Glory  Be  mine?  "  says  I. 

"  You've  guessed  it,"  says  he.  "  And  I  am 
taking  this  opportunity  for  releasing  Sweet- 
water  and  Miss  Allen." 

"  They   ain't  much  use,   anyway,"   says  I. 

II  But  you  wouldn't  shut  up  the  shop  for  fair, 
would  you?    Don't  you  want  some  one  on  hand 


14  TOUCHY 

to  answer  fool  questions,  or  steer  cranks  off 
like  that  postoffice  guy  that's  comin'  to-morrow? 
Unless  you  think  I'd  hook  the  rolltop  or  pinch 
the  letterpress,  you'd  better  leave  me  sittin* 
on  the  lid." 

Well,  sir,  he  seemed  to  take  to  that  notion, 
and  the  next  thing  I  knows  I'm  tellin  him 
about  my  scheme  of  wantin'  to  save  up  enough 
dough  to  pay  for  a  little  bunch  of  them  Glory 
Be  stocks. 

"  It's  a  shame  to  waste  all  that  good  money 
on  people  that  don't  know  a  cinch  when  it's 
passed  out  to  'em,"  says  I,  "  and  I've  been 
thinkin'  that  if  I  hung  to  the  business  long 
enough  maybe  I'd  have  a  show  to  buy  in." 

Say,  you  couldn't  guess  what  Mr.  Pepper  up 
and  does  then.  He  opens  the  safe,  counts  out 
a  hundred  shares  of  Glory  Be  common,  and 
fills  out  the  transfer  to  me  right  on  the  spot. 

11  Now,  Torchy,"  says  he,  "  it  will  cost  you 
five  weeks'  salary  to  pay  for  these;  but  if  I 
raise  you  a  dollar  a  week  and  take  it  out  a 
little  at  a  time  you'll  never  miss  it.  Anyway, 
you're  a  shareholder  from  now  on." 

Did  you  ever  get  rich  all  of  a  sudden,  like 
that?  You  feel  it  first  up  and  down  the  small 
of  your  back,  and  then  it  goes  to  your  knees. 
I  couldn't  say  a  blamed  word  that  was  sensible. 
I  don't  know  just  what  I  did  say,  and  I  never 
come  to  until  after  Mr.  Pepper 'd  finished  up 


IN  WITH  THE  GLORY  BE  15 

and  gone,  leavin'  me  with  two-weeks'  pay  in 
my  pocket,  and  a  big  envelope  full  of  them 
Glory  Be  shares,  all  printed  in  gold  and  purple 
ink,  with  a  picture  of  Dakota  Dan  in  the 
middle. 

I  couldn't  eat  a  bite  of  supper  that  night, 
and  I  puts  in  the  evenin'  readin'  over  them 
pamphlets  we'd  been  sendin'  out  until  I  knew 
every  word  of  it  by  heart.  I'll  bet  I  got  up 
and  hid  them  stocks  in  a  dozen  different  places 
before  mornin',  and  an  hour  before  bankin' 
time  I  was  sittin'  on  the  steps  of  the  Treasury 
Trust  concern,  waitin'  to  hire  one  of  them  steel 
pigeon-holes  down  in  the  vaults.  After  I'd  got 
the  envelope  stowed  away  and  tied  the  key 
around  my  neck  with  a  string,  I  goes  back  to 
the  office.  Sweetie  and  Miss  Allen  was  there, 
with  their  hammers  goin'.  They'd  found  their 
blue  tickets  and  their  week's  pay  and  was  just 
clearin'  out. 

''I'd  been  planning  to  make  a  change  for  the 
last  two  weeks,"  says  Miss  Allen.  "  I  was 
looking  for  something  like  this." 

"  Me  too,"  says  Sweetie.  "  It's  rough  on 
Torchy,  though." 

"  Say,  don't  you  waste  any  sympathy  on 
me,"  says  I,  "  and  don't  let  off  any  more  knocks 
at  Mr.  Pepper.  I  won't  stand  for  it!  ' 

"With  that  they  snickers  and  does  a  slow  exit. 
That  leaves  me  runnin'  the  gold  minin'  busi- 


16  TOECHY 

ness  single  handed;  but  me  bein'  one  of  the 
firm,  as  you  might  say,  it  was  all  right.  I'd 
always  had  a  notion  that  I'd  be  a  plute  some 
day;  but  honest,  I  wa'n't  expectin'  it  so  sud 
den.  I  was  just  tryin'  to  get  used  to  it,  when 
the  door  opens  and  in  drifts  that  guy  from  the 
Marshal's  office. 

"  Where's  Mr.  Belmont  Pepper?  "  says  he. 

"  Well,"  says  I,  "  the  last  time  I  saw  him  he 
was  headed  west." 

"  Skipped  out!  "  says  the  gent,  doin'  the 
foiled  villyun  stunt  with  his  face. 

"  Skipped  nothin',"  says  I.  "  Mr.  Pepper's 
gone  out  to  look  after  the  mine." 

"  Oh,  he's  gone  to  the  mine,  has  he!  "  says 
the  duck.  "  See  here,  kid,  I'm  a  United  States 
Deputy  Marshal.  Don't  you  try  to  tell  me  any 
fairy  stories,  or  you'll  pull  down  trouble.  We 
want  your  Mr.  Pepper,  and  we  want  him  bad! 
He's  a  crook." 

Well  say,  it  was  a  hot  argument  we  had. 
He  tries  to  tell  me  that  this  minin'  business  is 
all  a  bunko  game,  and  that  there's  a  paper  out 
for  the  boss.  Then  he  camps  down  in  the  pri 
vate  office  and  says  he'll  wait  until  Mr.  Pepper 
shows  up.  He  makes  a  stab  at  it,  too,  and  a 
nice  long  wait  he  has.  I  stuck  it  out  for  two 
weeks  with  him,  tryin'  to  beat  it  into  his  head 
that  the  Glory  Be  mine  was  a  real  gilt  edged 
proposition.  I'd  have  been  there  yet,  only  they 


IN  WITH  THE  GLORY  BE  17 

comes  and  lugs  off  all  the  desks  and  things  and 
makes  me  give  up  the  keys. 

Say,  it  was  a  tough  deal,  all  right.  It  was 
some  jay  that  stirred  up  all  the  muss,  howlin' 
for  his  coin  that  he  thought  he'd  lost.  But  look 
at  the  hole  I'm  in,  after  bein'  so  brash  to  Mr. 
Pepper  about  stayin'  on  the  lid,  and  him  lettin' 
me  write  my  own  valuation  ticket!  How  do  I 
square  it  with  him  when  he  comes  back  and 
finds  I've  stood  around  and  seen  him  closed  out? 

Old  Velvet  Foot,  the  deputy,  says  if  the  boss 
comes  back  at  all  he'll  be  wearin*  a  diff'rent 
face  and  flaggin'  under  another  name.  But  I 
know  better.  He's  as  square  as  a  pavin'  block. 
If  he  wa'n't,  why  was  he  distributin'  Glory  Be 
stocks  among  fool  outsiders,  instead  of  keepin' 
it  in  the  fam'ly! 

"  Ah,  brush  your  belfry!  "  says  I.  "  Your 
mind  needs  chloride  of  lime  on  it." 

But  say,  shareholder  or  not,  I've  got  to  plug 
the  market  for  somethin'  that'll  pass  with  the 
landlady.  I've  been  livin'  on  crullers  and  cof 
fee  for  two  days  now,  and  that  starter  guy 
says  if  I  don't  quit  hangin'  around  the  arcade 
he'll  have  me  pinched.  I've  wrote  out  a  note  to 
leave  for  Mr.  Pepper,  and  I  guess  it's  up  to  me 
to  frisk  another  job. 

You  don't  know  where  they  want  a  near- 
plute  as  temp'rary  office  boy,  do  you? 


CHAPTER  II 

A   JOLT   FOR  PIDDIE 

IT'S  a  case  of  "  comin'  up,  up  "  with  me. 
Sure  as  ever !  Ain  't  I  got  stock  in  a  gold  mine  ? 
And  now  I'm  in  with  the  Corrugated  Trust. 
Why,  say,  two  moves  more  and  I'll  be  first  vice- 
president.  There's  only  his  door,  and  the  gen 
eral  manager's,  and  then  me. 

I'm  behind  the  brass  rail,  next  to  the  spring 
water.  When  you  have  the  front  to  push 
through  the  plate  glass,  you  see  me  first.  If 
I  likes  your  looks,  and  your  card  reads  right, 
maybe  I  gives  you  a  peek  at  Mr.  Piddie.  Any 
one  that  gets  past  Piddie 's  a  bird.  He's  the 
Inside  Brother,  Keeper  of  the  Seal,  Watch  on 
the  Rhine,  and  a  lot  more.  He  draws  down  sal 
ary  for  bein'  confidential  secretary  to  the 
G.  M.;  but  Con.  Sec.  don't  half  cover  it.  He 
keeps  the  run  of  everything,  from  what  the  last 
quarterly  dividend  was  down  to  how  many  tubs 
of  pins  is  used  by  the  office  force  every  month. 

I'd  never  made  good  with  Piddie  in  a  month 
of  Yom  Kippurs  if  it  hadn't  been  for  Old 
Heavyweight,  the  main  squeeze.  Piddie  had 

18 


A  JOLT  FOE  PIDDIE  19 

ten  of  us  lined  up  for  the  elimination  test,  and 
was  puttin'  us  through  the  catechism  and  the 
civil  service,  when  in  pads  Mr.  Ellins — you 
know,  Hickory  Ellins.  Ever  see  our  V.  P.? 
Say,  he  uses  up  cloth  enough  in  his  vest  to 
make  me  a  whole  suit. 

He's  a  ripe  old  sport,  with  a  complexion  like 
an  Easter  egg,  and  a  pair  o'  blinks  that'd  look 
a  hole  through  a  chilled  steel  vault.  He  runs 
us  over  without  losin'  step,  sticks  out  a  finger 
as  he  goes  by,  and  says  over  his  shoulder, 
"Piddie,  take  that  one!  " 

Me,  I  was  in  range.  Piddie  made  a  bluff  at 
go  in'  on  with  the  third  degree  business;  but 
the  other  entries  begins  to  edge  for  the  door. 
I  was  the  one  best  bet;  so  what  was  the  use? 
See  what  it  is  to  have  a  thirty-two  candle  power 
thatch?  He  couldn't  have  missed  me,  less'n 
he'd  been  color  blind.  There's  worse  things 
can  happen  to  you  than  red  hair,  all  right. 

Piddie  was  sore  on  me  from  the  start,  though. 
He'd  made  up  his  mind  to  tag  a  nice  little 
mommer's  boy,  with  a  tow  colored  top  and  a 
girly  voice.  Them's  the  kind  that  forgets  to 
bring  back  change  and  always  has  stamps  to 
sell.  Oh,  I  sized  up  Piddie  for  a  two  by  four 
right  at  the  get  away;  but  I've  been  keepin' 
him  jollied  along  just  for  the  fun  of  it. 

' l  J.  Hemmingway  Piddie  ' '  is  the  way  he  has 
it  printed.  Think  of  wastin'  all  them  letters, 


20  TORCHY 

when  just  plain  Piddle  is  as  good  as  seem*  a 
strip  of  pingpong  pictures  of  him !  He's  mostly 
up  and  down,  Piddie  is,  like  he'd  been  pulled 
out  of  a  bundle  of  laths,  and  he's  got  one  of 
these  inquisitive  noses  that's  sharp  enough  to 
file  bills  on. 

Refined  conversation  is  Piddie 's  strong  hold. 
It  bubbles  out  of  him  like  steam  out  of  the  oat 
meal  kettle.  Sounds  that  way,  too.  You  know 
these  mush  eaters,  with  their,  "  Ah,  I'm  su-ah, 
quite  su-ah,  doncher  know  "!  He's  got  that 
kind  of  lingo  down  to  an  art.  I'll  bet  he  could 
talk  it  in  his  sleep.  I've  heard  'em  before; 
but  I  never  looked  to  hold  a  sit.  under 
one. 

It's  a  privilege,  though,  bein'  so  close  to  Pid 
die.  If  I  don't  forget  all  the  things  he  tells 
me,  and  follows  'em,  I'll  be  made  over  new  in 
a  month  more.  He  begins  with  my  name. 
Torchy  don't  fit  right  with  him.  It  might  do 
for  some  places  he  didn't  mention,  but  not  for 
the  home  offices  of  the  Corrugated  Trust. 

"  Maybe  you'd  like  Reginald  better?  "  says  I. 

' '  But — er — aw — is  that  your  baptismal  name, 
my  boy?  "  says  he. 

"  Nix,"  says  I.  "  I'm  no  Baptist.  And, 
anyway,  I  couldn't  give  up  my  real  name,  cause 
I'm  travelin'  incog.,  and  me  noble  relatives 
would  be  shocked  if  they  knew  I  was  really 
workin'.  You  can  call  me  Torchy,  or  Reginald, 


A  JOLT  FOR  PIDDIE  21 

whichever  you  think  of  first,  and  if  you  be  care 
ful  to  say  it  real  nice  maybe  I'll  come." 

Every  time  I  throws  a  jolt  like  that  into  J. 
Hemmingw-ay,  he  looks  kind  of  stunned  and 
goes  off  to  chew  it  over.  But  he  gets  even  all 
right.  Sometimes  he'll  take  a  whole  forenoon 
to  dig  up  somethin'  he  thinks  is  goin'  to  give 
me  the  double  cross. 

Most  of  his  spare  time,  though,  he  puts  in 
tellin'  me  about  how  I'm  to  behave  when  Mr. 
Robert  comes  back.  For  the  first  few  days 
I  had  an  idea  Mr.  Eobert  was  the  pulley  that 
carried  the  big  belt,  and  that  when  he  stopped 
there  was  a  general  shut  down.  I  got  nervous 
watchin'  for  him.  Then  I  rounds  up  the  fact 
that  he's  Bob  Ellins,  who  cuts  more  ice  in  the 
society  columns  than  he  does  in  the  Wall  Street 
notes. 

Piddie  has  him  down  for  a  little  tin  god,  all 
right,  and  that  wa'n't  such  a  fool  move  of  Pid 
die 's,  either.  Some  day  Hickory  Ellins  will 
have  to  quit  and  take  the  hot  baths  regular,  and 
then  Mr.  Robert  will  get  acquainted  with  an 
eight  o'clock  breakfast.  See  where  Piddie 
comes  in?  He's  takin'  out  insurance  on  his 
job.  He  needs  it  bad  enough.  If  I  ever  get 
to  think  as  much  of  a  job  as  Piddie  does  of  his, 
I'll  have  some  one  nail  me  to  the  office  chair. 

Rule  No.  1  on  my  card  was  never  to  let  any 
one  through  the  brass  gate  unless  they  belonged 


22  TORCHY 

inside  or  had  a  special  permit.  Piddie  wants 
to  know  if  I've  ever  had  any  experience  with 
that  kind  of  work. 

"  Say,  where  do  you  think  I've  been?  "  says 
I.  "  Why,  I  did  that  trick  for  six  months, 
shuntin'  dopes  away  from  the  Sunday  editor's 
door,  and  there  was  times  when  nothin'  but  a 
club  would  keep  some  of  'em  out.  Back  to  the 
bridge,  Piddie!  When  I'm  on  the  gate  it's 
just  as  good  as  though  you'd  set  the  time  lock." 

Well,  I'd  been  there  over  one  payday  and 
halfway  to  the  next,  when  one  mornin'  about 
ten-thirty  the  door  comes  open  with  a  bang,  and 
in  steps  a  husky  young  gent,  swingin'  one  of 
these  dinky,  leather-covered  canes,  and  lookin' 
like  money  from  the  mint.  He  didn  't  make  any 
play  to  draw  a  card,  same's  they  generally 
does;  but  steers  straight  for  the  brass  gate,  full 
tilt.  I  never  says  a  word;  but  just  as  he  reaches 
over  to  spring  the  catch  and  break  in,  I  shoves 
my  foot  out  and  blocks  it  at  the  bottom,  bringin' 
him  up  all  standin'. 

"  Say,  this  ain't  no  ferryhouse,"  says  I. 

"  Hello!  "  says  he.    "  A  new  one,  eh?  " 

"  I  ain't  any  Fourth-ave.  antique,"  says  I; 
"  but  I'm  over  seven.  Was  you  wantin'  to  see 
anyone  special?  " 

He  seems  to  think  that's  a  joke.  "  Why," 
says  he,  "  I  am  Mr.  Ellins." 

"  G'wan!  "  says  I.  "  You  ain't  half  of  him." 


A  JOLT  FOR  PIDDIE  23 

That  reaches  his  funnybone,  too.  "  You're 
perfectly  right,  young  man, ' '  says  he ;  "  but  I 
happen  to  be  his  son.  Now  are  you  satisfied?  ' 

"  Nope,"  says  I.  "  That  bluff  don't  go 
either.  If  you  was  Mr.  Eobert  I'd  have  been 
struck  by  lightnin'  long  'fore  this.  You've  got 
one  more  guess." 

Just  then  I  hears  a  gurgle,  like  some  one's 
bein'  choked  with  a  chicken  bone,  and  I  squints 
around  behind.  There  was  Piddie,  lookin'  like 
the  buildin'  was  fallin'  down  and  tryin'  to  un 
cork  some  remarks. 

"Ah,  Piddie!  "  says  the  gent.  "Perhaps 
you  will  introduce  me  to  your  new  sentry  and 
give  me  the  password." 

Well,  Piddie  did.  He  almost  got  on  his  hands 
and  knees  doin'  it.  And  say,  blamed  if  the  duck 
wa'n't  Mr.  Robert,  after  all! 

"  Gee!  "  says  I,  "  that  was  a  bad  break." 

That  didn't  soothe  Piddie,  though.  He  used 
up  the  best  part  of  an  hour  tryin'  to  tell  me 
what  an  awful  thing  I'd  gone  and  done. 

"  This  ends  you,  young  man!  "  he  says. 
"  You're  as  good  as  discharged  this  very  mo 
ment." 

"  Is  that  all?  "  says  I.  "  Why,  by  the  way 
you've  been  takin'  on  I  figured  on  no  thin'  less 
than  sudden  death.  But  if  it's  only  bein'  fired, 
don't  you  worry.  I've  had  that  happen  to  me 
so  often  that  I  get  uneasy  without  it.  If  I 


24  TOKCHY 

should  wear  a  stripe  for  every  time  the  can's 
been  tied  to  me,  my  sleeves  would  look  like  a 
couple  of  barber's  poles.  Cheer  up,  Piddie! 
Maybe  they'll  let  you  pick  out  somethin'  that 
suits  you  better  next  time." 

He  couldn't  get  over  it,  though.  Along  about 
lunch  time  he  comes  out  to  me,  as  solemn  as 
though  he 's  servin '  a  warrant  for  homicide,  and 
says  that  Mr.  Robert  will  attend  to  my  case 
now. 

"  Piddie,"  says  I,  givin'  him  the  partin' 
grip,  "  you've  been  a  true  friend  of  mine. 
When  you  hear  me  hit  the  asphalt,  send  out  for 
a  chocolate  ice  cream  soda  and  drown  your 
sorrow. ' ' 

Then  I  turns  down  a  page  in  "  Old  Sleuth's 
Kevenge  ' '  and  goes  to  the  slaughter. 

Mr.  Eobert  has  just  talked  about  three  cylin 
ders  full  of  answers  to  the  letters  that's  piled 
up  while  he's  been  gone,  and  as  the  girl  goes 
out  with  the  records  he  whirls  around  in  the 
mahogany  easy-chair  and  takes  a  good  long 
look  at  me. 

"If  it  comes  as  hard  as  all  that,"  says  I, 
"  I'll  write  out  my  resignation." 

"  Mr.  Piddie 's  been  talking  to  you,  I  sup 
pose?  "  says  he. 

"  He's  done  everything  but  say  mass  over 
me,"  says  I. 

"  Piddie  is  a  good  deal  of  an "  then  he 


A  JOLT  FOR  PIDDIE  25 

pulls  up.  "  Where  the  deuce  did  he  find 
you?  " 

"  It  wasn't  him  found  me,"  says  I;  "  it  was 
a  case  of  me  findin'  him;  but  if  it  hadn't  been 
for  your  old  man's  buttin'  in,  that's  all  the 
good  it  would  have  done  me." 

"  Ah!  "  says  he.  "  That  explains  the  mys 
tery.  By  the  way,  son,  what  do  they  call  you?  ' 

"  Guess,"  says  I,  and  runs  me  fingers  through 
it.  "  Just  Torchy,  and  it  suits  me  as  well  as 
Percival  or  Montgomery." 

"  Torchy  is  certainly  descriptive,"  says  he. 
"  How  long  have  you  been  doing  office  work?  " 

"  Ever  since  I  could  lift  a  waste  basket," 
says  I. 

"  Are  you  ambitious?  "  says  he. 

11  Sure!  "  says  I.  "I'm  waitin'  for  some 
bank  president  to  adopt  me." 

"  You  came  in  here  expecting  to  be  dis 
charged,  I  presume?  "  says  he. 

"  What,  me?  "  says  I.  "  Nah!  I  thought 
you  was  go  in'  to  ask  me  over  to  the  Caffy  Mar- 
tang  for  lunch. ' ' 

For  a  minute  or  so  after  that  he  looks  me 
straight  in  the  eye,  and  I  gives  him  the  same. 
And  say,  for  the  kind,  he  ain't  so  worse. 
Course,  I  wouldn't  swap  him  for  Mr.  Belmont 
Pepper,  who's  the  only  boss  I  ever  had  that 
I  calls  the  real  thing ;  but  Mr.  Eobert  would  get 
a  ratin'  anywhere. 


26  TORCHY 

"  Torchy,"  says  he  after  a  bit,  "I'm  in 
clined  to  think  that  you'll  do.  Have  a  chair." 

"  Don't  I  get  the  blue  ticket,  then?  "  says  I. 

"  No,"  says  he,  "  not  until  you  do  something 
worse  than  obey  orders.  Besides  you're  the 
cheekiest  youth  that  has  ever  graced  the  offices 
of  the  Corrugated  Trust,  and  once  in  awhile  we 
have  use  for  just  such  a  quality.  For  instance, 
I  am  tempted  to  send  you  on  a  very  important 
errand  of  my  own.  Wait  a  moment  while  I 
think  it  over." 

"  Time  out!  "  says  I. 

Well  say,  I  didn't  know  what  was  comin', 
he  took  so  long  makin'  up  his  mind.  But  Mr. 
Robert  ain't  one  of  the  kind  to  go  off  half 
cocked.  He's  got  somethin'  on  his  shoulders 
besides  tailor's  paddin',  and  when  he  sets  the 
wheels  to  movin'  you  can  gamble  that  he's  get- 
tin'  somewhere.  After  awhile  he  slaps  his 
knee  and  says: 

"  No,  there  isn't  another  person  around  the 
place  who  would  know  how  to  go  about  it. 
Torchy,  I'm  going  to  try  you  out!  " 

It  wasn't  anything  like  I'd  ever  been  up 
against  before.  He  hands  me  an  express  re 
ceipt  and  says  he  wants  me  to  go  over  to  Jer 
sey  City  and  get  what  that  calls  for  without 
landin'  in  jail. 

"  You'll  see  a  bundle  done  up  in  burlap 
somewhere  around  the  express  office,"  says  he, 


27 

"  a  big  bundle.  It  looks  like  a  side  of  veal; 
but  it  isn't.  It's  a  deer,  one  that  I  shot  four 
days  ago  up  north.  Torchy,  did  you  know  that 
it  was  illegal  to  shoot  deer  during  certain 
months  of  the  year?  " 

"  You  can  be  pinched  for  shootin'  craps  any 
time,"  says  I. 

"  Really?  "  says  he. 

Then  he  goes  on  with  his  tale,  givin'  me  all 
the  partic'lars,  so  I  wouldn't  make  any  batty 
moves.  And  say,  they  can  think  up  some  queer 
stunts,  hangin'  around  the  club  of  an  after 
noon  and  lookin'  out  at  Fifth-ave.  through  the 
small  end  of  a  glass.  This  was  one  of  them 
real  clubby  dreams.  It  started  by  Mr.  Robert 
countin'  himself  in  on  a  debate  that  he  didn't 
know  the  beginning  of. 

"  When  they  asked  me  if  I  could  do  it,  I 
said,  *  Of  course  I  can,'  "  says  he,  "  and  then 
I  asked  what  it  was." 

The  bunch  had  been  gassin'  about  an  old 
gun  hangin'  over  the  fireplace.  It  was  one  of 
these  old-timers,  like  they  tell  about  Daniel 
Boone's  havin',  in  the  Nickel  Libr'ies,  the  kind 
you  load  with  a  stove  poker.  Flintlocks — 
that's  it!  They  was  wonderin'  if  there  was 
anyone  left  that  could  take  a  relic  like  that 
out  in  the  woods  and  hit  anything  besides  the 
atmosphere.  And  the  first  thing  Mr.  Robert 
knows  he  has  been  joshed  into  bettin'  a  hatful 


28  TORCHY 

of  yellowbacks  that  lie  can  take  old  Injun  killer 
out  and  bring  back  enough  deer  meat  to  feed 
the  crowd — and  him  knowin'  no  more  about 
that  sort  of  act  than  a  one-legged  man  does 
about  ska  tin '!  They  gives  him  two  weeks  to  do 
it  in. 

That  wa'n't  the  worst  of  it,  though,  accordin' 
to  him.  They  passes  the  word  around  until 
everyone  that  knows  him  is  on  the  broad  grin. 
The  joke  is  handed  across  billiard  tables  be 
tween  shots,  and  is  circulated  around  the  boxes 
at  the  opera.  It's  the  best  ever;  for  Mr.  Eob- 
ert  has  never  hunted  anything  livelier  than  a 
"Welsh  rabbit,  after  the  show. 

He's  a  boy  that  likes  to  make  good,  though. 
He  never  makes  a  brag;  but  he  boxes  up  that 
old  shootin'  iron  and  drops  out  of  sight.  'Way 
up  in  the  woods  somewhere  he  digs  up  an  old 
b'gosh  artist  that  was  brought  up  with  one  of 
them  guns  in  his  hand,  and  he  takes  a  private 
course.  After  he's  used  up  a  keg  of  powder 
shootin'  at  tin  cans  they  start  out  to  find  where 
the  deers  roost.  They  find  'em,  too.  Mr.  Eob- 
ert  is  so  rattled  that  he  misses  the  one  he  aims 
at;  but  he  bores  a  tunnel  through  another  in 
the  next  lot. 

Course,  he  thinks  he's  got  a  cinch  then.  He 
hustles  to  the  nearest  flag  station  and  spends 
eight  dollars  sendin'  telegrams  to  the  bunch, 
invitin'  'em  to  a  venison  feed  at  the  club.  Then 


A  JOLT  FOR  PIDDIE  29 

he  has  his  game  sewed  up  neat  in  meal  bags  and 
expressed  to  John  Doe,  Jersey  City.  See  how 
cute  he  was?  He'd  heard  about  the  game  laws 
by  that  time;  so  he  lays  his  plans  to  duck  any 
trouble.  But  he  hadn't  counted  on  that  gang 
tippin'  off  the  Jersey  game  wardens,  nor  on 
their  trailin'  the  baggage  and  express  bundles 
with  huntin'  dogs. 

1 '  The  dogs  had  smelled  it  out  just  as  I  came 
in  to  claim  it,"  says  he;  "so  all  I  could  do 
was  to  keep  my  mouth  closed,  standing  around 
and  looking  foolish  until  I  got  tired  and  came 
away.  And  that,  Torchy,  is  the  situation  up 
to  the  present  moment.  My  venison  is  under 
guard  over  in  Jersey  City,  and  if  it  isn't  deliv 
ered  at  the  club  by  six  o'clock  to-night  I  shall 
not  only  lose  my  bet,  but  have  my  life  made 
miserable  from  cheap  jokes  for  months  to  come. 
It  occurred  to  me  that  if  your  wits  were  as 
bright  as  the  hair  that  covers  them,  you 
might  be  able  to  help  me  out.  What  do  you 
think?  " 

"  Chee!  "  says  I,  scratchin'  me  bonfire,  "  I 
guess  I'm  down  the  coal  chute.  I've  rescued 
locked-in  typewriter  girls  from  fire  escapes, 
and  lied  the  boss  out  of  a  family  row;  but  I 
never  tried  my  hand  at  kidnappin'  enough 
meat  for  a  dinner  party.  How  about  buyin' 
off  the  game  sleuth?  " 

"  He  has  been  bought  by  the  other  side,"  says 


30  TOBCHY 

Mr.  Robert.  "  He  wouldn't  dare  to  sell  them 
out." 

Well,  I  thunk  some  more  thinks  just  as  punky 
as  that,  and  then  we  settles  it  that  I'm  to  hike 
over  and  take  a  squint,  anyway.  I  gets  him 
to  give  me  a  line  on  what  kind  of  a  looker  the 
warden  was,  and  he  throws  me  a  couple  of  tens 
for  campaign  expenses.  I  was  just  stowin' 
away  the  green  stuff  as  I  goes  through  the  out 
side  office,  and  Piddie's  eyebrows  go  up. 

' '  They're  goin'  to  let  me  finish  out  the  week," 
says  I.  "  Ain't  they  the  gentle  things'?  " 

Then  I  skips  out  for  the  23d-st.  boat,  leavin' 
Piddie  with  his  mouth  open,  and  Mr.  Robert 
wrapped  up  with  the  idea  that,  some  way  or 
other,  I'm  goin'  to  talk  that  game  cop  into  a 
dope  dream  and  rescue  the  roast. 

But,  say,  I  didn't  need  to  look  twice  at  that 
snoozer  to  see  that  no  line  of  hot  air  I  had  in 
stock  would  soften  him  up.  He  had  an  under 
shot  jaw,  a  pair  of  eyes  that  saw  both  sides 
of  the  street  at  once,  and  a  head  like  a  chop- 
pin'  block.  He  was  sittin'  right  alongside  of 
that  burlap  bundle,  waitin'  to  spring  his  tin 
badge  on  some  one. 

"  Do  they  send  such  things  as  that  through 
without  cratin'?  "  says  I  to  a  guy  behind  the 
chicken  wire,  jerkin'  me  thumb  at  Mr.  Sleuth. 
"  What's  the  label  on  him!  " 

"  That's  Mr.  Hinkey  Tolliver,  special  offi- 


A  JOLT  FOE  PIDDIE  31 

cer,"  says  he.  "  Better  look  out  or  he'll  break 
a  hand  grenade  on  that  still  alarm  of  yours." 

"  Ah,  back  to  the  blotter!  "  says  I.  "  Who 
gave  you  any  license  to  make  funny  cracks  on 
my  Mrs.  Leslie  Carter  disguise?  " 

We  swapped  a  few  more  like  that,  while  I 
sizes  up  Hinkey,  tryin'  to  map  out  a  way  to 
brace  him.  But  it  was  a  losin'  proposition. 
•He  has  one  of  them  eyes  nailed  to  what  I 
wanted  to  take  away  and  the  other  trained  on 
the  door,  and  you  could  tell  by  the  way  he  held 
his  jaw  that  no  thin'  short  of  an  earthquake 
would  jar  him  loose. 

It  was  too  much  for  me.  If  it  hadn't  been 
that  Mr.  Robert  had  put  it  up  to  me  so  flat,  I'd 
have  quit  then.  But  I  couldn't  lay  down  with 
just  a  look;  so  I  takes  a  turn  around  into  the 
passenger  waitin'  room,  battin'  my  head  for  a 
new  line. 

I  guess  it  was  kind  of  second  sight  that  steers 
me  over  into  the  corner  where  there  is  an  A. 
D.  T.  branch.  I  wa'n't  lookin'  for  anyone  I 
knew,  seein'  it's  been  so  long  since  I  wore  the 
cap;  but  who  should  I  pipe  off,  sittin'  on  the 
call  bench,  but  Hunch  Leary!  And,  say,  be 
tween  the  time  I'd  give  him  the  nod  to  come 
out,  and  his  a  skin'  how  it  was  I'd  shook  the 
red  stripe,  I'd  framed  up  the  whole  scheme. 
First  I  goes  over  to  the  girl  under  the  blue 
bell  and  rings  up  Mr.  Robert. 


32  TORCHY 

"  Hello,"  says  I,  "  this  is  Torchy." 

"  Good!  "  says  he.    "  Have  you  got  it?  " 

"  Got  no  thin'!  "  says  I.  "  You  must  think 
I'm  a  writ  of  habeas  corpus.  I  want  to  know 
who  was  the  gent  that  most  likely  tipped  off 
your  warden  friend." 

When  I'd  got  that  I  asks  the  time  of  the  next 
uptown  boat,  and  makes  a  deal  with  one  of 
them  ferry  hawks  to  back  his  chariot  up  near 
the  express  office  door  and  be  ready  to  make  a 
swift  move  for  the  gangplank. 

Then  me  and  Hunchy  fakes  up  this  little 
billy  ducks  to  Mr.  Hinkey  Tolliver,  tellin'  him 
to  chase  to  the  nearest  'phone  and  call  up  the 
gent  that  Mr.  Robert  had  put  me  wise  to. 

It  was  worse 'n  playin'  a  three-ball  combina 
tion  for  the  side  pocket,  and  I  holds  my  breath 
while  Hunch  pokes  his  book  at  him  and  waits 
to  see  if  there 's  any  answer.  Tolliver,  he  reads 
it  over  two  or  three  times,  first  with  one  eye 
and  then  the  other.  One  minute  I  thought  he 
was  goin',  and  the  next  he  settles  back  like 
he'd  made  up  his  mind  to  balk.  He  squints 
at  the  burlap  package,  and  then  at  the  message, 
and  all  of  a  sudden  he  makes  a  break  for  the 
'phone. 

He  hadn't  begun  mo  via'  before  I  was  up  to 
the  window  with  my  receipt,  callin'  for  'em 
to  get  a  hustle  on,  as  Mr.  Doe  had  run  out  of 
veal  and  had  to  have  it  in  a  hurry.  Ever  try 


A  JOLT  FOE  PIDDIE  33 

to  poke  up  one  of  them  box  jugglers?  They 
took  their  time  about  it — and  me  lookin'  for 
trouble  every  tick  of  the  clock!  But  I  got  an 
0.  K.  on  it  after  awhile,  and  for  a  quarter  I 
hired  a  wagon  helper  to  drag  the  bundle  out 
and  chuck  it  into  the  hansom.  Then  I  climbs 
in  and  we  made  the  boat  just  as  the  bell  rang. 
She  was  pullin'  out  of  the  slip  when  Tolliver 
rushes  out  about  as  calm  as  a  bulldog  chasin' 
a  tramp. 

11  Say,"  says  the  driver,  climbin'  down  to 
take  a  look  at  the  baggage, ' '  who  you  got  sewed 
in  the  sack?  " 

"  Get  on  your  perch!  "  says  I.  "  Ain't  you 
makin'  extra  money  on  this?  And  when  you 
fetch  up  at  the  club,  do  it  like  you  was  used 
to  stoppin'  at  such  places." 

It  was  a  great  ride  that  me  and  the  deer 
meat  had  across  town  and  up  Fifth-ave.  I'd 
stopped  once  to  put  Mr.  Robert  next ;  so  he  was 
waitin'  for  me  out  in  front  of  the  club,  wearin' 
a  grin  that  was  better 'n  a  breakfast  food  ad. 

But  that  wa'n't  anything  to  the  look  on  Pid- 
die  when  Mr.  Robert  shows  up  next  mornin' 
and  pats  me  on  the  back  like  I  was  one  of  his 
old  Hasty  Puddin'  chums. 

"  Piddie,"  says  I,  "  look  what  it  is  to  be 
born  handsome  and  lucky,  all  in  one  throw !  ' ' 


CHAPTER  in 

MEETING  UP  WITH  THE  GREAT  SKID 

NEXT  time  you  nabs  me  writin'  a  form  sheet 
on  any  unknown,  you  can  hang  out  the  waste 
paper  sign  and  send  me  to  the  scows.  Look  at 
the  mess  I  makes  of  this  here  Mallory  business ! 
Why,  first  off  I  has  him  billed  for  a  Percy  boy 
that  had  strayed  into  the  general  office  from 
the  dry  goods  district.  He  had  a  film'  job  in  the 
bond  room,  and  when  he  drew  his  envelope  on 
Saturdays  it  must  have  set  the  Corrugated 
Trust  back  for  as  much  as  twelve  D. 

Course,  I  didn't  pay  no  attention  to  him,  un 
til  one  noon  I  finds  him  in  the  next  chair  at 
the  dairy  lunch.  He's  got  his  mug  of  half  white 
and  half  black,  and  his  two  corned  beef  splits, 
with  plenty  of  mustard,  and  he's  just  squarin' 
off  for  a  foodfest,  when  I  squats  down  with  two 
hunks  of  pie  and  all  the  cheese  I  could  get  at 
one  grab. 

"  Hello,  Algy!  "  says  I.  "  Where's  the  char 
lotte  russe  and  the  cup  of  tea?  " 

"  Beg  pardon,"  says  he;  "  were  you  speak 
ing  to  me?  " 

34 


MEETING  UP  WITH  GREAT  SKID    35 

"  Sure,"  says  I.  "  You  didn't  think  I  was 
makin'  that  crack  at  the  armchair,  did  you? 
Maybe  we  ain't  been  introduced;  but  we're  on 
the  same  payroll." 

"  Oh,  yes,"  says  he,  "  I  remember  now. 
You're  the— the " 

"  Go  on,  say  it,"  says  I.  "I  don't  mind  if 
it  is  red,  and  I  lets  anybody  call  me  Torchy  that 
wants  to,  even  Willies." 

"  Well,  now,  that's  nice  of  you,"  says  he, 
sidetrackin'  a  bite  to  look  me  over.  Then  he 
grins. 

Say,  it  was  that  open  face  movement  that 
made  me  suspicious  maybe  he  wa'n't  one  of  the 
Algernon  kind,  after  all.  But  he  had  most  of 
the  points,  from  the  puff  tie  to  the  way  he 
spoke.  It  wa'n't  the  hot  potato  dialect  Piddie 
uses;  but  it  leaned  that  way.  If  he'd  been  a 
real  Willie  boy,  though,  he'd  gone  up  in  the 
air,  and  maybe  I'd  got  slapped  on  the  wrist. 
His  springin'  that  grin  was  a  hunch  for  me  to 
hold  the  decision. 

"  How  long  you  been  keepin'  Corrugated 
stocks  from  goin'  below  par?  "  says  I. 

That  stuns  him  for  a  minute,  and  then  a  light 
breaks.  He  throws  another  grin.  "  Oh,  about 
a  year,"  he  says. 

"  Chee!  "  says  I.  "  And  they  ain't  put  you 
on  the  board  of  directors  yet?  " 

"  I've  managed  to  keep  off  so  far,"  says  he. 


36  TOBCHY 

"  Get  a  lift  every  quarter,  though,  I  sup 
pose?  "  says  I. 

"  I'm  getting  the  same  salary  I  began  with, 
if  that's  what  you  mean,"  says  he,  tacklin'  an 
other  sandwich  that  had  got  past  the  meat  in 
spectors. 

"  Yours  must  be  fatter 'n  most  of  the  Satur 
day  prize  packages  they  hand  out  in  the  general 
office,  or  you  wouldn't  have  kept  satisfied  so 
long,"  says  I. 

He  thinks  that  over  for  awhile,  like  it  was  a 
new  proposition,  and  then  he  says,  quiet  and 
easy,  "I'm  not  at  all  sure,  you  see,  that  I 
am  satisfied." 

"  Why  not  chuck  it  then  and  make  another 
grab?  "  says  I.  "  It's  good  luck  sometimes  to 
shake  the  bag." 

He  swings  his  shoulders  up  at  that, — and 
say,  he's  got  a  good  pair,  all  right! — but  he 
don't  say  a  word. 

"  Ain't  married  the  job,  have  you?  "  says  I. 
' '  Or  have  you  lost  your  nerve  ?  ' 

11  Perhaps  it's  a  lack  of  nerve,  as  you  sug 
gest,"  says  he,  more  as  if  he  was  talkin'  to 
himself  than  anything  else. 

"  Don't  think  you  could  connect  with  another, 
eh?  "  says  I. 

He  shakes  his  head.  "I'm  not  exactly  proud 
of  the  fact,"  says  he;  "  but  I  don't  mind  telling 
you  in  confidence  that  it  required  the  combined 


efforts  of  my  entire  family  and  all  my  friends 
to  get  me  into  this  job." 

"  Honest?  "  says  I.  "  Ghee!  They  picked 
a  pippin  for  you,  didn't  they?  ' 

"  It's  a  star,"  says  he. 

"  So's  a  swift  kick  from  the  bottom  of  a 
well,"  says  I. 

With  that  I  shakes  off  the  pie  crumbs  and 
takes  a  chase  up  around  the  Flatiron,  to  watch 
the  kids  collectin'  cigar  coupons  and  take  a 
look  at  the  folks  from  the  goshfry-mighty  belt 
shiverin'  in  the  rubberneck  buggies.  Say,  I 
never  feel  quite  so  much  to  home  in  this  burg 
as  when  I  watch  them  jays  from  the  one-night 
stands  payin'  their  coin  to  see  things  that  I 
shut  my  eyes  on  every  day. 

When  I  gets  back  on  the  gate  I  tries  to  figure 
out  this  Mallory  gent;  but  I  can't  place  him. 
He's  no  Willie,  and  he's  no  dope,  I  can  see  that. 
With  his  age  and  general  get-up,  though,  he 
ought  to  be  pullin'  out  fifty  or  so  a  week. 
What's  he  been  at  all  this  time? 

I  was  just  curious  enough  to  stroll  over  and 
take  a  look  at  him.  He  has  his  coat  off,  plug- 
gin'  away  on  the  job  and  do  in'  the  kind  of 
work  that  I  could  learn  to  play  with  any  time 
I  had  a  day  off.  Not  that  I'm  lookin'  for  it. 
Bern'  head  office  boy  suits  me  down  to  the 
ground.  That's  bein'  somethin',  even  if  they 
do  pay  you  off  with  a  five  and  a  one.  But 


38  TOBCHY 

if  you're  a  live  one  you'll  get  tipped  as  mneh, 
more.  And  you  don't  have  cold  chills  up  the 
spine  every  time  the  boss  lugs  down  an  after 
breakfast  grouch. 

Course,  a  duck  like  Mallory  can't  get  in  any 
such  game;  so  he's  got  to  dig  away  at  the  filin' 
case  and  wear  his  last  summer's  suit  until 
Christmas.  Diggin'  and  keepin'  quiet  seemed 
to  be  his  only  play.  Just  as  though  he'd  ever 
win  any  medals  by  the  way  he  stacked  papers 
away  in  little  pasteboard  boxes ! 

He  wins  somethin'  else,  though.  One  day 
the  general  manager  rushes  into  Mallory 's  cor 
ner  after  somethin'  he  wanted  in  a  hurry,  and 
by  the  time  he'd  found  it  he'd  pied  things  from 
one  end  of  the  coop  to  the  other.  Mallory  was 
just  tryin'  to  straighten  out  the  mess,  when 
along  comes  Piddie,  with  that  pointed  nose  of 
his  in  front.  Piddie  don't  ask  any  questions; 
he  throws  a  fit.  Why,  he  had  Mallory  on  the 
carpet  for  forty  minutes  by  the  clock,  givin' 
him  the  grand  roast,  and  the  only  time  Mallory 
opens  up  to  tell  him  how  it  was  he  shuts  him 
off  with  a,  "  That  is  sufficient,  Mr.  Mallory! 
I  am  here  to  get  results,  not  excuses.  Is  that 
quite  clear?  " 

"  Yes,  sir,"  says  Mallory. 

Say,  but  he  did  it  well !  He  looks  that  peanut 
headed  snipe  straight  in  the  eye  all  the  time 
after  that  and  takes  what's  comin'  to  him  with- 


MEETING  UP  WITH  GREAT  SKID    39 

out  turnin'  a  hair.  It  was  "  Yes,  Mr.  Piddle,*' 
and  "  No,  Mr.  Piddie  ";  but  nothin'  else.  And 
the  cooler  and  politer  he  was,  the  wilder  Pid 
die  got.  When  I  hears  him  tell  Mallory  that 
another  such  break  will  cost  him  his  job,  I  was 
achin'  to  throw  the  letterpress  at  him  and  break 
him  in  two.  I  couldn't  hardly  wait  for  Mallory 
to  shut  the  door  before  I  let  loose. 

"  Say,  Piddie,"  says  I,  "if  you  don't  think 
you'll  sleep  easy  to-night  unless  you  give  some 
one  the  bounce,  why  not  fire  me?  Go  on,  now; 
I'll  make  out  a  case  for  you.  Tell  'em  I  said 
you  howled  around  like  a  pup  with  a  sore  ear. ' ' 

Piddie  turns  white  and  gives  me  the  glassy 
eye — that's  all.  I  couldn't  tease  a  fire  out  of 
him  with  a  box  of  matches. 

But  that  didn't  make  up  for  the  way  he'd 
roughed  Mallory.  I  was  still  sore  over  it  at 
closin'  time;  so  I  lays  for  Mallory  and  asks 
him  why  he  didn't  risk  the  job  and  take  a  crack 
at  Piddie 's  jaw. 

He  just  laughs.  "  Oh,"  says  he,  "  I  couldn't 
pay  him  that  compliment." 

Was  that  a  joke,  yes?  Blamed  if  I  could 
tell.  Anyway,  it  wa'n't  sense.  And  there's 
where  I  had  the  front  to  put  it  straight  up  to 
Mallory  about  his  bein'  stranded  in  a  place 
where  he  had  to  take  such  pin  jabbin'  as  that. 

"  Say,"  says  I,  "is  it  hard  luck,  or  a  late 
start,  or  what?  " 


40  TOECHY 

"  I  fancy  a  late  start  would  cover  it,"  says 
he. 

"  Not  college?  "  says  I. 

"  That's  it,"  says  he. 

"  £w,  fudge!  "  says  I.  "  Honest,  I  didn't 
take  you  for  one  of  them  rah-rah  boys.  Well, 
if  it's  that  ails  you,  you're  up  against  it.  I 
don't  wonder  you  had  to  be  jammed  into  a  job 
with  a  flyin'  wedge.  Chee!  ' 

I  was  sorry  for  him,  though.  Maybe  it  was 
somethin'  he  couldn't  duck.  Some  of  'em  I've 
known  of  couldn't.  Oh,  I've  seen  bunches  of 
'em,  just  turned  out.  Didn't  we  have  more'n 
a  dozen  unloaded  on  us  when  me  and  Mr.  Mar 
shall  was  gettin'  out  the  Sunday  edition?  And 
we  didn't  do  a  thing  to  'em,  either! 

But  it's  a  tough  deal,  after  puttin'  in  all  that 
time  dodgin'  the  fool  killer  at  some  one  else's 
expense,  to  be  chucked  into  the  grub  game  with 
nothin'  but  a  lot  of  siss-boom  yells  for  experi 
ence.  I  wouldn't  have  believed  Mallory  was 
that  sort.  Nice  young  feller,  too.  Never  slung 
any  of  his  Greek  at  me,  nor  flashed  his  college 
pins.  Seemed  to  kind  of  like  chinnin'  to  me  at 
lunch;  so  I  let  him.  You  know  how  you'll  get 
to  gassin'  and  tellin'  each  other  the  story  of 
your  life.  I  lets  out  about  Belmont  Pepper  and 
the  minin'  stocks  he  gave  me,  and  Mallory  drops 
hints  about  mother  and  sister,  that  was  livin' 
off  in  Washington  or  somewhere  with  a  brother 


MEETING  UP  WITH  GREAT  SKID    41 

that  was  in  better  luck.  Mallory,  lie  was  doin' 
the  hall  bedroom  act,  livin'  on  that  twelve  per 
and  keepin'  out  of  sight  of  everyone  he'd  ever 
known  until  he'd  made  good.  Guess  he  found 
it  kind  of  a  lonesome  deal. 

Once  when  I  was  extra  flush  I  offers  to  blow 
him  to  a  fain'ly  circle  seat  at  "  The  Bandit 
Queen  ";  but  he  says  he  thinks  he'd  better 
not  go. 

"  Plannin'  to  have  a  spin  in  your  new  car?  " 
says  I. 

* '  Hardly, ' '  says  he. 

"  Well,  how  do  you  put  in  your  off  time, 
anyway!  "  says  I. 

And  say,  whatcher  think?  His  programme 
is  to  light  up  the  gas  stove  reg'lar  after  din 
ner  and  fill  his  head  full  of  truck  out  of  the 
trade  monthlies  and  Wall  Street  columns, 
postin'  himself  on  Corrugated  business. 

"  Gettin'  ready  to  give  the  old  man  a  few 
private  tips?  "  says  I. 

"  Not  until  he  asks  for  them,"  says  he. 

"  Then  you've  got  lots  of  time,"  says  I. 
11  But  it's  a  punk  way  of  enjoyin'  yourself." 

Maybe  it  was  thinkin'  about  what  a  dead  slow 
time  he  was  havin'  that  gives  me  the  cue  to  stir 
up  that  lovely  mess,  or  perhaps  it  was  because 
the  thing  was  sprung  on  me  so  unexpected.  It 
come  one  day  when  I  was  busy  drawin'  pic 
tures  of  Piddie  on  the  blotter.  I  hears  a  gig- 


42  TOECHY 

gle,  and  squints  up  to  see  a  pair  that  looked 
as  if  they'd  just  broke  away  from  an  after 
noon  tea.  He  was  a  husky  youth  in  a  frock 
coat,  with  a  face  like  a  full  moon  and  a  voice 
that  didn't  call  for  any  megaphone.  The  other 
Was  a  her,  and  she  was  a  bundle  of  tuttifrutti, 
the  kind  you  see  floatin'  by  in  sixty  horse 
powers,  all  veils  and  furs  and  eyes. 

"  Hello,  sonny,"  says  he,  swingin'  up  to  the 
brass  gate,  wearin'  a  four-inch  grin.  "  Where's 
the  Great  Skid!  " 

"  Give  it  up,"  says  I.  "  Have  you  tried  the 
Zoo?  " 

"  He-haw!  "  says  he,  with  the  stops  all  out 
and  a  forced  draft  on.  "  That's  a  good  one, 
that  is!  But  we  haven't  much  time  and  we're 
looking  for  Skid.  Where  do  you  keep  him?  " 

"  Say,"  says  I,  "  we've  got  a  lot  of  freaks 
on  tap ;  but  we  're  just  out  of  Skids.  Anything 
else  do?  " 

Then  she  comes  to  the  front.  "  Don't  be  such 
a  silly,  Dicky!  "  says  she.  "  It  isn't  likely  they 
call  him  that  here.  Tell  the  young  man  it's 
Bert  Mallory  we  wish  to  see. ' ' 

"  You're  right,  Sis,  right  as  usual,"  says 
Dick.  "  It's  Mallory  we're  looking  for." 

"Oh!  "says  I.    "  Mister  Mallory?  " 

"  There  now,  Dicky!  "  says  she,  pokin'  him 
with  her  elbow  and  touchin'  off  another  giggle, 
"  Didn't  I  tell  you?  " 


MEETING  UP  WITH  GEEAT  SKID    43 

"  He-haw!  "  says  Dicky.  "  Mister  Mallory, 
.of  course." 

But  I  didn't  feel  he-hawy  a  bit;  for  it  was 
up  to  me  to  tow  Mallory 's  swell  college  chum 
and  his  sister  in  where  the  boy  was  jugglin' 
the  file  cases.  And  them  lookin'  for  him  to  be 
sittin'  in  a  swing  chair  with  his  name  painted 
big  on  the  door !  That  was  when  I  dug  up  my 
fool  thought. 

"  Cards!  "  says  I.  "I'll  see  if  Mr.  Mai- 
lory's  got  through  consultin'  with  the  general 
manager. ' ' 

"  Oh!  "  gurgles  Sis.  "  Doesn't  that  sound 
business  like,  though?  I  suppose  Skid — er — 
Mr.  Mallory  is  quite  a  busy  man,  isn't  he?  " 

"  Busy,"  says  I.  "  Say,  you  don't  think  he 
has  all  of  us  around  here  to  play  marbles,  do 
you,  miss?  " 

Sis,  she  gets  mighty  int 'rested  at  that. 
"  He's  a  very  important  man  now,  isn't  he?  " 
says  she. 

"  Chee,  yes!"  says  I.  "He's  I-double-it 
around  here." 

"  Isn't  that  fine?  "  says  Sis.  "  But  I  hope 
he  can  see  us." 

"  Oh,  I'll  fix  that  all  right,"  says  I. 

With  that  I  slides  through  two  doors  and 
into  Mr.  Robert's  room.  He's  still  out  to 
lunch,  of  course,  it  bein'  only  about  two 
o'clock;  so  I  unlocks  the  corridor  door  that 


44  TORCHY 

he  don't  use  and  skips  across  into  the  general 
offices. 

"  Say,"  says  I  to  Mallory,  "  you're  wanted 
in  the  boss's  office.  No,  not  the  old  man's;  Mr. 
Robert  's.  Skin  into  your  coat  and  come  along. ' ' 

Never  fazes  him  a  bit.  He  just  hunches  his 
shoulders,  knocks  the  dust  off  his  hands,  and 
trots  after.  When  I  gets  him  in  there  I  tells 
him  to  wait  a  minute,  and  then  I  goes  out 
through  the  right  way  and  lugs  in  Dicky  and 
sister. 

Was  it  a  surprise  party?  Well,  say!  Dicky 
lets  out  a  roar,  makes  a  plunge  for  him,  ham 
mers  him  on  the  back,  works  the  pump  handle, 
and  talks  a  blue  streak. 

' '  Well,  Skiddy,  old  man,  here  we  are !  ' '  says 
he.  "  Thought  you'd  given  us  the  shake  for 
good,  eh?  But  we  heard  you'd  gone  in  with 
the  Corrugated, — saw  Blicky  in  Venice  and  he 
told  us, — so  when  we  came  ashore  we  wired  fa 
ther  to  hold  the  car  over  one  train  for  us  while 
we  hunted  you  up.  Sis  wouldn't  let  me  come 
unless  she  could  too.  Here,  Sis,  it's  your  turn. 
Blaze  ahead  now  and  give  the  boy  what  you 
said  you  would.  I'll  turn  my  back." 

I  didn't,  though.  Was  there  any  hangin'  off 
about  Sis?  Not  so  you'd  notice  it.  She  just 

steps  up  and  makes  a  grab  for  Mallory  and 

Aw,  say!  One  like  that  must  be  good  for 
chapped  lips.  If  I'm  ever  handed  one  of  them 


MEETING  UP  WITH  GEEAT  SKID    45 

kind  I  won't  wash  it  off  for  a  month.  It  tickles 
Dicky  most  to  death. 

"  He-haw!  "  says  he,  so's  the  window  panes 
rattle.  "  She  said  she'd  do  it.  And  she  did, 
didn't  she,  eh,  Skid?  " 

Mallory  couldn't  prove  an  alibi.  He  was  the 
worst  rattled  man  I  ever  see,  and  as  for 
blushin' — he  got  up  a  color  like  the  lady  heroine 
in  a  biff-bang  drama.  He  acted  as  though  he 
didn't  know  whether  he  was  loopin'  the  loops 
or  having  a  dream  that  was  too  good  to  be 
true.  Once  or  twice  he  tried  to  unloosen  some 
remarks;  but  Sis  and  Dicky  was  both  talkin'  to 
once  and  he  never  got  a  show.  They  was  tellin' 
him  how  glad  they  was  to  see  him  again,  and 
what  a  great  man  he  was,  and  how  Sis  was 
comin'  back  to  town  next  month  for  the  rest 
of  the  season,  and  all  that — when  right  in  the 
middle  of  it  the  door  opens  and  in  comes  Mr. 
Robert. 

Say,  I  felt  like  a  noon  extra  in  a  bunch  of 
six  o'clock  editions.  I'd  balled  things  up  lovely, 
I  had!  Why,  the  only  times  a  general  office 
hand  ever  gets  a  chance  to  stand  on  the  Per 
sian  rug  in  the  boss's  office  is  just  before  he 
gets  the  run  or  is  boosted  into  a  five-figure  sal 
ary.  And  here  I  has  a  twelve-dollar  man  usin' 
it  like  a  public  reception  hall !  It  was  what  was 
goin'  to  happen  to  Mallory  that  gave  me  the 
shivers. 


46  TOECHY 

11  Torchy,"  says  Mr.  Eobert,  "  what's  all 
this?  " 

11  S-s-sh!  "  says  I.  "  It's  Old  Home  Day, 
and  the  lady  is  handin'  out  choc 'late  creams. 
Wait  up;  maybe  it'll  be  your  turn  next." 

"  But,  see  here,  I  don't  understand,"  says 
he.  "  Who  are  these  persons,  and  why " 


1 1 


Ah,  say!  "  says  I.  "  Ain't  you  got  any 
sportin'  blood?  Besides,  I  don't  know  the 
answer  myself." 

I  could  of  kept  that  up  just  about  one  more 
round  before  I'd  fell  through  a  crack;  but  just 
as  Mr.  Eobert  was  framin'  up  another  conun 
drum  Dicky  turns  around  and  spots  him. 

'  *  Why,  hello,  Bob !  ' '  yells  Dicky,  as  gentle  as 
if  he  was  hailin'  someone  across  Broadway. 
*  *  By  Jove,  though,  I  forgot  all  about  you  being 
in  the  Corrugated  too !  But  of  course  you  are. 
Sis  and  I  just  ran  in  a  minute  to  look  up  Skid. 
Good  old  Skid!  Great  boy,  eh,  Bob!  " 

Mr.  Eobert  takes  a  look  over  by  the  window 
at  Mallory,  who  wasn't  seein'  a  thing  but  Sis 
and  wasn't  hearin'  anything  but  what  she  was 
sayin' — and  she  was  sayin'  a  lot. 

"  Is— is  that  Skid?  "  says  Mr.  Eobert. 

"  Oh,  come  along  now,  Bob,"  says  Dicky, 
pokin'  him  in  the  vest  playful.  "  You  don't 
mean  to  say  you  don't  know  Skid  Mallory,  the 
Great  Skid,  best  quarterback  we  ever  turned 
out,  the  one  that  went  through  Harvard  for 


MEETING  UP  WITH  GREAT  SKID    47 

forty-five  yards,  and  that  with  a  broken  ankle? 
Don't  know  Skid?  Why,  say!  " 

"  I  take  it  all  back,"  says  Mr.  Robert.  "  Of 
course  I  know  him;  but  not  so  well  as  you  do, 
Dicky.  I  wasn't  one  of  the  coaches,  you  know, 
and  I  haven't  kept  the  run  of  the  team  for  the 
last  year  or  two.  But  I'm  glad  to  see  the  Great 
Skid.  How  the  deuce  does  he  happen  to  be  up 
here,  though?  " 

"  He-haw!  "  says  Dicky.  "  That's  rich,  that 
is?  Shows  how  much  you  know  of  Corrugated 
affairs,  Bob.  Why,  man  alive,  Skid's  one  of 
the  chaps  that's  runnin'  your  old  gent's  trust. 
This  is  his  office  you're  in  now." 

"  Really!  "  says  Mr.  Robert.  He  takes  an 
other  look  at  Mallory,  who's  deaf  and  dumb 
and  blind  to  everything  but  Sis,  and  then  he 
turns  for  a  good  hard  look  at  me. 

I  grins  kind  of  foolish  and  nods.  Then  I 
jumps  behind  Dicky  and  begins  to  wigwag  over 
his  shoulder  for  Mr.  Robert  to  keep  it  up.  I 
didn't  know  whether  he  would  or  not.  I  wa'n't 
sure  but  what  he'd  think  I'd  turned  batty,  by 
the  motions  I  was  goin'  through;  but  he's  a 
sport,  Mr.  Robert  is.'  He  didn't  know  what 
was  on  the  card;  but  he  takes  a  chance. 

So  Dicky  waltzes  him  over  to  the  pair  by  the 
window,  and  makes  Mr.  Robert  and  Mallory 
acquainted,  and  jollies  'em  both,  and  all  three 
of  'em  talk  football  to  Mallory,  who  blushes 


48  TOECHY 

worse  than  ever  and  don't  know  which  way  to 
turn.  They  keep  that  up  until  Dicky  pulls  out 
his  watch,  grabs  Sis  by  the  arm,  and  hollers 
that  they've  got  to  make  a  break  for  the  Wash 
ington  Limited.  Sis  is  shakin'  good-by  with 
both  of  'em  at  once,  when  she  thinks  of  some- 
thin'  funny. 

' '  Oh,  Mr.  Kobert !  ' '  says  she.  ' '  I  want  to 
know  which  of  you  is  who  here,  don't  you  know. 
Is  it  you  that  works  for  Skid,  or  Skid  that  works 
for  you?  " 

"  Chee!  "  thinks  I.  "  That  upsets  the  soup 
kettle." 

Mr.  Robert  looks  at  Mallory,  and  Mallory 
looks  at  him.  There  was  no  breakin'  away;  for 
she  has  hold  of  a  hand  apiece.  Both  of  'em 
makes  a  start;  but  Mr.  Robert  gets  the  floor. 
"  Why,"  says  he,  ''I  guess  we're  both  work 
ing  for  the  Corrugated,  only  one  of  us  works  a 
little  harder  than  the  other." 

"  Ah!  "  says  Sis,  givin'  Mallory  a  smile  that 
was  worth  payin'  money  to  see.  "  I  thought 
so." 

The  next  minute  they  makes  a  dash  for  an 
elevator  goin'  down,  and  that  part  of  it  was 
over.  We'd  worked  the  bluff  all  the  way 
through,  and  Sis  has  lugged  off  the  idea  that 
Mallory  was  at  the  top  of  the  bunch. 

But  there  was  Mr.  Robert,  waitin'  to  talk 
Dutch  to  us. 


MEETING  UP  WITH  GREAT  SKID    49 

Mallory  he  starts  in  to  say  that  he's  sorry 
for  seemin'  so  cheeky;  but  that's  about  all  he 
can  say. 

"  Ah,  cheese  it!  "  says  I,  buttin'  in.  "  What 
do  you  know  about  it?  It  was  me  put  up  the 
game,  and  if  Mr.  Robert  had  loafed  another 
half  an  hour  at  the  club  like  he  usually  does, 
there  wouldn't  have  been  any  mix  up.  Say, 
you  leave  this  to  me." 

Mallory  didn't  want  to  leave  it  like  that; 
but  Mr.  Robert  was  holdin'  the  door  open  for 
Mm,  so  he  couldn't  do  anything  else.  When 
we  had  it  all  to  ourselves,  the  boss  ranges  me 
up  in  front  of  him  for  the  court  of  inquiry 
session. 

"  Well?  "  says  he,  real  solemn. 

I  takes  all  that  in  and  gives  him  the  wink. 
"  Say,"  says  I,  "  didn't  I  have  my  nerve  with 
me,  thought  ' 

He  kind  of  blinks  at  that;  but  it  don't  fetch 
him. 

"  Who's  Dicky,  your  whisperin'   friend?  ' 
says  I. 

"  Nobody  much,"  says  he.  "  His  father's  a 
Senator." 

"  Well,  say,  now,"  says  I,  "  you  didn't  want 
me  to  chase  a  Senator's  son  and  a  real  swell 
girl  like  Sis  off  into  a  place  like  the  general 
office  reception  room,  did  you?  And  wouldn't 
it  have  been  a  nice  break  if  I'd  let  out  that  we 


50  TOECHY 

was  smotherin'  the  Great  Skid  under  a  twelve- 
dollar  job?  " 

"  Was  that  why  you  had  the  impudence  to 
appropriate  my  office1?  "  says  he. 

*  *  That  was  part  of  it, ' '  says  I. 

And  that  gives  me  an  openin'  to  tell  him  the 
whole  tale  about  Mallory,  from  the  hall  bed 
room  act  to  the  way  he'd  been  postin'  himself. 

"  You  think  he's  a  valuable  man,  do  you?  ' 
says  Mr.  Robert. 

"  Valuable!  "  says  I.  "  Why,  he's  all  the 
goods.  What  if  he  did  learn  to  talk  Greek  once? 
He's  forgettin'  it,  ain't  he?  And  look  at  the 
way  he  stands  up  to  trouble!  Don't  that  show 
there's  good  stuff  in  him?  " 

"  Well,"  says  he,  "  what  would  you  sug 
gest?  " 

"  Ah,  say!  "  says  I.  "  Couldn't  you  give  a 
guess?  Why,  if  I  was  you  I'd  fix  it  so  that 
when  Sis  comes  back  to  town  she  wouldn't  find 
him  on  no  kid's  job.  I'd  give  him  a  show  to  get 
his  name  painted  on  a  door  somewhere." 

"  Torchy,"  says  he,  punchin'  the  button  for 
his  secretary,  "  I  shouldn't  wonder  if  we  did." 


CHAPTER  IV 

FROSTING  THE   PROFESS 

CHEE!  but  I'm  gettin'  to  be  useful!  Course, 
I  don't  figure  out  no  awful  slump  in  Corrugated 
stocks  if  I  should  get  pettish  some  day  and  tell 
'em  they'd  got  to  find  a  new  office  boy.  That 
ain't  the  kind  of  shredded  thought  I'm  feedin' 
on.  I  fit  into  a  lot  of  places  besides  the  chair 
behind  the  brass  gate.  Why,  I  have  to  put  on 
a  sub.  three  or  four  times  a  week,  while  I'm 
spreadin'  myself  out  all  over  the  lot. 

It  all  come  of  their  makin'  me  special  mes 
senger  to  the  boss ;  for  since  old  Mr.  Ellins  has 
been  laid  up  with  toothache  in  his  knee  joints 
they've  been  chasm'  me  up  to  the  Fift'-ave. 
ranch,  with  mail,  and  blank  bonds  to  be  signed, 
and  such  truck.  And  that 's  how  I  came  to  get  so 
thick  with  Marjorie. 

I  was  waitin'  in  the  front  hall,  pipin'  off 
the  gorgerifousness,  when  some  one  pushes  in 
through  the  draperies  L.  U.  E.  and  I'm  dis 
covered.  And,  say,  she  was  a  magnum,  all 
right !  You  know  the  sort  of  pippins  they  pick 
out  to  hang  up  by  a  string  in  the  fruit  store 

51 


52  TORCHY 

window?  Well,  that  was  her  style.  Big?  She'd 
fit  close  in  a  Morris  chair  !  And  she  didn't  look 
more'n  eighteen  or  nineteen,  either.  For  all 
her  width,  she  was  built  on  good  lines,  and  if 
she  'd  been  divided  up  right  there  'd  been  enough 
for  a  pair  of  as  good  lookers  as  you'd  want  to 
see. 

1  1  O-o-o-o  !  '  '  says  she  as  she  comes  in.  '  '  See 
who's  here!  " 

I  never  says  a  word,  but  just  twists  my  toes 
around  the  chair  legs  and  looks  into  my  hat. 
Not  that  I'm  any  afraid  of  girls;  but  I  wa'n't 
feelin'  so  much  to  home  there  as  I  do  in  some 
places,  and  I  didn't  want  to  make  any  break. 
But  she  wouldn't  let  it  go  at  that. 

4  '  O-o-o-o  !  '  '  says  she  again,  and  as  I  squints 
ttp  at  her  I  sees  the  reg-lar  cut-up  looks  just 
bubblin'  out. 

"  G'wan!  "  says  I.    "I  ain't  no  curiosity." 

"  Oh,   it   is    Torchy   then,   isn't   it?  "    says 


"  You  don't  think  this  is  a  wig  I'm  wearin', 
do  you?  "  says  I.  That's  what  I  got  to  expect 
with  hair  like  mine.  The  minute  my  descrip 
tion's  given  out  everybody's  on. 

She  giggles  and  says  that  Brother  Robert's 
been  telling  her  about  me.  "  I'm  Marjorie,  you 
know,"  says  she. 

Well,"  says  I,  lookin'  her  over  careful, 


FROSTING  THE  PROFESS  53 

I  meant  it.  Mr.  Robert 's  only  fair  sized ;  but 
old  man  Ellins  is  a  whale,  and  I  was  thinkin' 
of  him  when  I  said  that  Marjorie  was  up  to 
specifications.  She  seems  to  think  I've  handed 
out  a  lump  of  butterscotch,  though,  and  we 
gets  real  chatty. 

I  don't  know  what  kind  of  fairy  yarns  Mr. 
Robert's  been  tearin'  off  at  home  about  me; 
but  from  the  start  she  treats  me  like  I  was  one 
of  the  fam'ly.  And  Marjorie  was  just  as  nice 
as  she  was  heavy.  She  didn't  try  to  carry  any 
dog;  but  just  blazes  ahead  and  spiels  out  the 
talk.  I  get  next  to  the  fact  that  she's  just  home 
from  one  of  them  swell  boar  din'  schools,  where 
they  pump  French  and  music  into  young  lady 
plutesses  at  a  dollar  a  minute,  and  throw  in 
lessons  on  how  to  say  "  Home,  Frangois!  "  to 
the  chaff eur.  This  was  some  kind  of  a  vaca 
tion  Marjorie  was  havin',  and  she  was  doin' 
her  best  to  make  every  hour  count. 

Knowin'  all  that  helped  me  to  keep  from  bein' 
so  much  jarred  by  her  next  move.  It  was  a 
couple  of  days  after,  on  a  Wednesday,  and  we'd 
got  real  well  acquainted,  when  Marjorie  spots 
me  as  I  was  headin'  back  for  the  office  after 
leavin'  some  things  for  the  boss. 

"  Torchy,"  says  she,  "  where 's  Robert? 
What  was  he  doing  when  you  left !  ' 

"  Give  it  up,"  says  I.  "  And,  anyway,  I 
ain't  supposed  to  know." 


54  TORCHY 

"I'll  bet  you  do,  though,"  Sa7s  sne- 
"  Couldn't  you  guess?  " 

"  If  I  did,"  says  I,  "  I'd  guess  that  he'd  just 
made  a  run  of  ten  or  twelve  and  was  pushin' 
up  the  buttons  on  the  string." 

"  I  don't  know  what  that  means,"  says  she. 

"  Well,"  says  I,  "it  means  that  maybe  he's 
playin'  billiards  at  the  club." 

"  Oh,  darn!  "  says  she,  real  wicked. 

It  turns  out  that  Brother  Robert  has  said  he'd 
take  sister  to  the  matinee  that  afternoon,  and 
the  date  has  got  clean  by  him.  She  wants  to 
go  the  worst  way,  too.  Mother  wasn't  handy, 
Aunty  May  had  the  icebag  on  her  head,  and 
there  wasn't  anyone  else  within  reach.  Ac- 
cordin'  to  the  rules,  there 'd  got  to  be  some 
one. 

"  Torchy,"  says  she,  "  I  don't  see  why  you 
couldn't  take  me,  as  well  as  anyone  else." 

"  Thanks,"  says  I,  "  but  I  don't  want  to  earn 
my  release  that  way.  I've  got  'em  trained 
down  to  the  office  so  they'll  stand  for  a  lot; 
but  me  ringin'  in  a  matinee  durin'  business 
hours  would  sure  break  the  spell." 

"  Oh,  pshaw!  "  says  she.  "  I  can  fix  that 
part  of  it,"  and  off  she  goes,  up  to  see  puppah. 

If  she'd  come  back  and  said  the  old  man 
was  havin'  a  fit  on  the  floor,  I  wouldn't  have 
been  any  surprised.  But,  say,  Marjorie  must 
have  a  pull  accordin'  to  her  weight;  for  inside 


FROSTING  THE  PROFESS  55 

of  four  minutes  she  comes  skippin'  down  the 
front  stairs,  makin'  the  gas  globes  rattle  and 
jigglin'  the  pictures  on  the  wall. 

"  It's  all  right,"  says  she.  "  Father  says 
you're  to  telephone  Mr.  Piddie  that  you  won't 
be  back,  and  then  you're  to  see  that  I  get  to  the 
theater  and  home  again  without  being  kid 
napped.  I'll  be  ready  in  ten  minutes." 

It  was  a  shame,  though,  that  I  missed  seem' 
Piddie  when  he  got  the  word.  All  I  could  hear 
was  a  gasp,  like  he'd  been  butted  just  above 
the  belt,  and  then  he  hung  up  the  receiver.  I 
expect  I'll  send  him  to  the  nerve  repair  shop 
some  day. 

But  you  should  have  seen  me  and  Marjorie 
sittin'  on  the  broadcloth  cushions  and  bein7 
carted  down  to  the  theater.  I  swelled  up  all  I 
could;  but  at  that  I  wa'n't  much  more'n  a  dot 
on  the  landscape.  There's  times  when  I  feel 
real  chesty  and  can  hear  my  feet  make  a  noise 
when  I  walk;  but  this  wa'n't  one  of  'em.  And 
when  it  came  to  paradin'  down  the  middle  row 
after  the  usher,  with  Marjorie  puffin'  behind,  I 
felt  like  one  of  them  dinky  little  river  tugs 
towin'  a  floatin'  grain  elevator.  I  was  lookin' 
for  the  house  to  let  loose  a  "  Ha-ha!"  It 
didn't,  though.  They  expect  most  anything  to 
drift  into  them  afternoon  shows. 

"  Say,  Miss  Ellins,"  says  I,  after  she'd 
squeezed  herself  into  her  place,  pinned  her 


56  TOECHY 

feather  lid  up  in  front  of  her,  and  opened  the 
choc 'late  creams,  "  I've  been  in  such  a  dream.  I 
didn't  look  at  the  outside  boards  or  get  a  pro 
gramme.  What's  doin' — variety  or  a  tumpy- 
tump  show?  ' 

"  Why,"  says  she,  "  this  is  Shakespeare's 
'  Borneo  and  Juliet.'  : 

' '  Z-z-z-zing !  ' '  says  I.  l '  Stung  again !  Who 
unloaded  the  tickets  on  you?  ' 

What  d'ye  think,  though?  She'd  picked  this 
show  out  all  by  herself,  put  up  real  money  for 
it — and  that  with  two  Injun  drammers  runnin' 
right  on  Broadway!  Said  she'd  seen  the  same 
thing  half  a  dozen  times  before,  too.  Aw,  say ! 
I  couldn't  get  next  to  any  such  batty  move  as 
that.  And  when  I  thought  how  this  was  my 
first  plunge  into  a  two-dollar  chair,  it  made  me 
sore. 

"  Wake  me  up  when  it's  all  over,"  says  I, 
and  settles  back  for  a  real  rest. 

There's  where  I  hung  out  the  wrong  number. 
That  wa'n't  any  dope  drammer  at  all.  Course, 
Shakespeare  don't  know  how  to  ring  in  burnin' 
flat  houses,  or  mill  explosions,  or  any  real 
thrillers  like  that;  but  there's  somethin'  doin' 
in  his  pieces.  There  was  in  this  one,  anyway. 
It  was  quite  some  time  before  I  got  any  glim 
mer  of  what  it  was  all  about;  but  before  the 
first  act  was  over  I  was  sittin'  up,  all  right. 

"  What  do  you  think  of  her?  "  says  Marjorie. 


FEOSTING  THE  PROFESS  57 

"  The  one  with  the  Maxine  Elliott  eyes  and 
the  gushy  voice!  "  says  I.  "  Oh,  I  don't  call 
her  such  a  much;  but  if  Romeo  wants  her  as 
bad  as  he  says  he  does,  I  hope  it  won't  be  a  case 
of  '  My  pa  won't  let  me.'  But,  say,  what  for 
did  they  kill  off  the  only  real  live  one  they 
had,  that  Mr.  Cuteo?  Say,  he  was  all  to  the 
good,  and  it  was  a  shame  to  have  him  punctured 
so  quick!  ' 

The  parts  I  liked,  though,  wa'n't  the  ones  that 
Marjorie  got  herself  worked  up  over.  It  was 
the  balcony  scene  she'd  come  for.  When  they 
got  to  that  she  grips  the  seat  in  front  and 
glues  her  eyes  on  them  two  that  was  swappin' 
the  long,  lingerin'  breakaway  tackles,  and  every 
once  in  awhile  she  heaves  up  a  sigh  like  cuttin* 
out  an  airbrake. 

After  it  was  all  over,  and  most  everybody  that 
counted  had  swallowed  knockout  drops,  Mar 
jorie  gives  me  a  sidelight  on  what's  been  run- 
nin'  through  her  head. 

"  I  could  do  that,"  says  she.  "  I  just  know 
I  could!  " 

"  Do  what?  "  says  I. 

"  Why,  Juliet's  part.  I've  been  studying  it 
for  months,  ever  since  our  class  gave  it  at 
school.  They  wouldn't  give  me  a  part  then; 
but  juet  you  wait!  I'll  show  them!  ' 

"  You're  joshin',"  says  I. 

Honest,  I  didn't  think  ske  meant  it.     She 


58  TOECHY 

didn't  say  any  more  about  it,  and  all  the  way 
home  she  was  as  quiet  as  a  bale  of  hay. 

That  was  the  last  I  see  of  Marjorie  for  near 
a  week.  Then,  one  afternoon  as  I  was  goin' 
through  Tinpan  Alley  on  an  errand,  I  sees 
the  Ellins  carriage  pull  up,  and  out  she 
comes. 

Now,  say,  I  knew  in  a  minute  that  wa'n't  any 
place  for  Marjorie.  The  buildin'  she  goes  into 
is  one  of  them  old  five-story  brownstones,  where 
they  sell  wigs  in  the  basement,  costumes  on  the 
first  floor,  have  a  theatrical  agency  on  the  sec 
ond,  and  give  voice  culture  and  such  stuff  above. 
Among  the  other  signs  was  one  that  read, 
"  School  of  Dramatic  Art,  Boom  9,  Fifth 
Floor." 

"  Chee!  "  says  I.  "  You  don't  suppose  Mar 
jorie 's  got  it  that  bad,  do  you!  " 

First  off  I  thinks  I'll  chase  along  and  forget 
I'd  seen  anything  at  all.  Then  I  thinks  of  what 
Mr.  Robert  would  say  if  he  knew,  and  I  stops. 
'Sure,  I  hadn't  been  called  to  play  any  Buttin- 
sky  part;  but  somehow  I  didn't  feel  right  about 
staym'  out,  so  the  first  thing  I  knows  I'm 
trailin'  up  the  stairs.  There  wa'n't  any  need  to 
do  the  sleuth  act  after  Marjorie  got  started. 
Anyone  on  the  floor  could  have  heard  it;  for 
she  was  spoutin'  the  Juliet  lines  like  a  carriage 
caller,  and  whenever  she  made  a  rush  to  the 
footlights  the  floor  beams  creaked.  It  was 


FROSTING  THE  PROFESS  59 

enough  to  drag  a  laugh  out  of  a  hearse  driver. 
And  guess  what  the  guy  was  tellin'  her! 

"  Great!  "  says  he.  "  You're  almost  as  good 
as  Mary  Anderson  was  at  her  best,  and  as  for 
Marlowe,  she  can't  touch  you.  Excellent,  that 
last  speech!  What  fire,  what  expression,  what 
talent!  Why,  young  woman,  all  you  need  is  a 
Broadway  production  to  sweep  'em  off  their 
feet !  I'll  arrange  it  for  you.  It  means  money, 
of  course;  but  after  the  first  cost — fame,  noth 
ing  but  fame !  ' ' 

Now,  how  was  that  for  a  hot-air  blast? 
Wouldn't  that  make  a  short  ice  crop  if  you  let 
it  loose  up  the  Hudson? 

But  it  wa'n't  what  he  said,  so  much  as  how 
he  was  sayin'  it,  that  got  me  int 'rested.  There's 
some  voices  you  don't  have  to  hear  but  once 
to  remember  a  lifetime,  an  this  was  one  of  that 
kind.  It  was  one  of  these  husky  baritones,  like 
what  does  the  coonsongs  for  the  punky  records 
they  put  into  the  music  boxes  at  the  penny  ar 
cades.  That  was  as  near  as  I  could  map  it  for 
a  minute  or  so  while  I  was  tryin'  to  throw  up 
the  picture  of  the  man  behind  the  voice.  And 
then  it  hits  me — Professor  Booth  McCallum! 

Oh,  skincho,  what  a  front !  Why,  when  I  was 
on  the  Sunday  editor's  door  the  professor  used 
to  show  up  reg'lar  with  some  new  scheme  for 
winnin'  space.  Talk  about  your  self-acting 
press  agents !  He  had  the  bunch  shoved  to  the 


60  TOECHY 

curb.  All  he  had  to  bank  on  was  a  ten-minute 
turn  at  a  14th-st.  continuous  house,  fillin'  in 
between  the  trained  pig  and  the  strong  lady; 
but  he  wanted  as  much  type  set  about  himself 
as  if  he  'd  been  Dave  Warfield. 

When  he  couldn't  get  next  to  anybody  else, 
he  used  to  give  me  the  earache  tellin'  of  the 
times  when  he  played  stock  in  one  of  Daly's 
road  comp'nies,  and  how  he  had  to  quit  because 
John  Drew  was  jealous  of  him.  Then  he'd 
leave  his  stuff  with  me  and  I'd  promise  to  sneak 
it  into  the  dramatic  notes  the  first  time  I  found 
the  forms  unlocked. 

And  to  think  of  a  hamfatter  like  McCallum, 
who 's  come  back  from  Buffalo  on  a  brake  beam 
so  often  that  he  always  sleeps  with  one  arm 
crooked  around  the  bedpost,  havin'  the  nerve  to 
call  himself  a  school  of  dramatic  art!  Course, 
I  didn't  think  Marjorie  was  so  easy  as  to  fall 
for  a  fake  like  that.  She  must  be  stringin' 
him. 

But  the  minute  I  see  her  come  out  I  knew 
she'd  swallowed  the  hook.  I'd  dropped  back 
into  the  far  end  of  the  hall,  where  it  was  dark ; 
but  as  she  walks  under  the  skylight  I  sees  the 
pleased  look  on  her  face,  like  she  was  havin ' 
a  view  of  her  lithographs  on  all  the  gold  frames 
in  the  subway.  I  waits  until  McCallum  shuts 
himself  in  to  throw  bouquets  at  his  picture  in 
the  glass,  and  then  I  slips  down  just  in 


61 

time  to  catch  Marjorie  as  she's  climbin'  into 
the  carriage. 

"  Is  this  the  lady  that's  entered  for  the 
heavyweight  Juliet  championship?  "  says  I, 
tryin'  to  break  the  news  to  her  gentle. 

It  shook  her  up  a  good  deal,  just  the  same. 
Her  face  gets  the  color  of  an  auction  flag,  and 
she  jounces  down  on  the  seat  in  a  way  that 
makes  the  springs  flat  out  like  bed  slats. 

"Why,  Torchy!"  says  she.  "  Where  did 
you  come  from,  and  what  do  you  mean?  ' 

"  Oh,  I've  taken  out  a  butt-in  license,"  says 
I.  "  I'm  on,  Miss  Ellins.  I  wa'n't  invited  to 
the  rehearsal;  but  I  was  there." 

"Listening  outside?  "  says  she. 

"  Uh-huh,"  says  I. 

"  Oh,  Torchy!  "  says  she.  "  Did  you  hear 
how  lovely  the  professor  talked  of  the  way  I 
did  it?  " 

"  About  your  havin'  Julia  Marlowe  sewed  in 
a  sack?  Sure  thing,"  says  I. 

"  But  you  mustn't  tell  anyone,"  says  she. 

"  I  wouldn't  want  the  job,"  says  I.  "I  can 
draw  a  diagram  of  the  riot  there'll  be  when 
mommer  and  popper  get  the  bulletin." 

"  I  don't  care,"  says  Marjorie.  "  They  never 
want  me  to  do  anything.  It's  always,  '  Oh, 
Marjorie,  you're  too  big.'  In  summer  I  can't 
go  bathing  because  they  say  I'm  a  sight  in  a 
bathing  suit,  and  in  winter  they  won't  let  me 


62  TOECHY 

skate  because  they're  afraid  I'll  break  through. 
The  boys  won't  dance  with  me,  and  the  girls 
shut  me  out  of  basketball.  But  Professor  Mc- 
Callum  has  been  perfectly  dear.  He  said  right 
away  that  I  wasn't  a  bit  too  stout  to  be  an 
actress.  I'm  not,  either!  Why,  I  weigh  less 
than  two  hundred,  with  my  jacket  off;  honest, 
I  do!  He  liked  my  voice,  too.  And  this  was 
only  my  third  lesson.  Anyway,  I'd  just  love 
to  play  Juliet,  and  I  mean  to  do  it !  ' : 

Well,  say,  that  was  a  proposition  to  give  you 
a  headache.  I  couldn't  go  runnin'  to  Mr.  Eob- 
ert  or  the  boss  with  any  tales  about  Miss  Mar- 
jorie.  That  ain't  what  I'm  on  the  payroll  for. 
But  I  couldn't  let  McCallum  play  a  friend  of 
mine  for  a  good  thing;  so  I  just  opens  up  on 
him. 

"  Why,"  says  I,  "  he's  a  never  was.  Maybe 
he  used  to  carry  a  spear,  or  play  double-up 
parts  on  the  haymow  circuit;  but  that's  about 
all.  He's  a  common,  everyday,  free  lunch 
frisker,  Mac  is.  I  used  to  know  all  about  him 
when  I  was  in  the  newspaper  business ;  so  this 
is  a  straight  steer.  He's  just  tollin'  you  along 
because  he's  had  a  dream  that  if  he  gets  you 
real  stuck  on  yourself  you'll  come  across  with 
two  or  three  thousand  for  expenses  and  will  be 
too  tender-hearted  to  squeal  afterwards.  That's 
his  game,  and  all  you've  got  to  do  to  queer  it 
is  to  send  him  ten  and  say  the  folks  object." 


That's  about  the  way  I  put  it,  drawin'  it  as 
strong  as  I  knew  how.  Does  Marjorie  see  the 
point  and  heave  up  any  thanks  about  my  bein' 
her  true  friend?  Not  her!  She  calls  me  impi- 
d'nt  and  says  she's  got  a  good  mind  to  box  my 
ears  right  there.  So  it  was  up  to  me  to  calm 
her  down. 

"  All  right,  Miss  Marjorie,"  says  I.  "If 
I've  said  anything  I  can't  prove,  I'll  take  it 
back;  but  if  you'll  follow  me  upstairs  again  for 
a  minute,  and  wait  outside  in  the  hall,  I'll  have 
a  little  talk  with  the  professor  that'll  settle  it 
one  way  or  the  other." 

No,  she  wouldn't  do  it,  and  she  didn't  want 
me  ever  to  speak  to  her  again.  I  was  too  fresh, 
I  was! 

11  Then  I  guess  I'll  have  to  send  Mr.  Eobert 
up  to  engage  seats  for  that  Juliet  stab  of 
yours,"  says  I,  makin'  a  play  to  move  off. 

It  was  a  bluff;  but  it  fetched  her.  She  was 
willin'  to  do  'most  anything  if  I  wouldn't  tell 
Brother  Robert;  so  back  we  goes  up  to  the 
acting  school  on  the  top  floor.  I  left  her  leanin' 
up  against  the  wall,  right  near  the  open  tran 
som,  and  makes  a  break  for  McCallum. 

He  was  right  there,  too.  He's  one  of  these 
short-legged,  ham-faced  gents  that's  almost  as 
tall  when  he's  sittin'  down  as  when  he's  standin' 
up.  A  neck  that  takes  a  No.  18  turn-down 
collar  goes  with  that.  He  has  his  hands  in  his 


64  TOECHY 

pockets,  an  Egyptian  joss-stick  in  his  mouth, 
and  he's  straddlin'  up  and  down,  as  satisfied 
with  himself  as  if  he'd  just  cashed  a  ticket  on 
the  right  horse. 

'  *  Hello,  profess !  ' '  says  I.  "I  spots  your 
name  on  the  sign;  so  I  takes  the  foot  elevator 
up  to  see  how  you're  comin'  on." 

"  Quite  right,  son,"  says  he,  "  quite  right." 

He  didn't  need  any  whizz  plane  then  to  beat 
the  Curtiss  record.  He  was  soarin',  soarin,'  and 
too  busy  with  it  to  take  much  notice  of  me. 

"  You  ain't  been  round  to  the  office  lately," 
says  I,  lettin'  on  I  was  still  with  the  paper. 

"  No,  son,"  says  he;  "  but  you  can  inform 
your  dramatic  man  down  there  that  if  he  wants 
an  important  piece  of  news  he'd  better  come 
and  see  me,"  and  with  that  he  taps  his  chest 
like  he  was  stunnin'  the  gallery. 

"  Thought  you  looked  like  happy  days,  pro 
fessor,"  says  I.  "  What's  it  like?  You  ain't 
been  takin'  on  any  swell  pupils,  have  you?  " 

"  Haven't  I,  though?  "  says  he,  stickin'  his 
thumbs  in  his  vest  pockets  and  comin'  up  on 
his  toes  as  if  he  was  goin'  to  crow.  "  Haven't 
I?  " 

"  Say,  Mac,"  says  I  confidential,  "  that 
wasn't  her  I  saw  drivin'  off  in  the  private 
buggy  as  I  come  in,  was  it — the  wide  one  f  ' ' 

"  That  was  her,"  says  he,  "  the  new  Juliet." 

11  Juliet!"  says  I.     "Aw,  you're  kiddin'I 


FEOSTING  THE  PROFESS  65 

Honest,  professor,  do  Juliets  come  as  heavy  as 
that?  " 

Then  he  winks.  I  could  see  he  was  just 
bustin'  to  let  it  out  to  some  one,  and  here  was 
his  chance.  "  Son,"  says  he,  "  when  young 
ladies  have  the  price  to  pay  for  such  luxuries 
as  the  cultivation  of  a  dramatic  talent  that 
doesn't  exist,  size  doesn't  count.  I've  coached 
a  Hamlet  with  lop  ears  and  a  pug  nose,  a  Lady 
of  Lyons  that  had  a  face  you  could  chop  wood 
with,  and  I  guess  I'm  not  going  to  draw  the 
line  at  a  Juliet  whose  father  is  president  of  a 
trust,  even  if  she  is  something  of  a  baby  ele 
phant!  " 

I  heard  the  wall  crack  at  that,  and  I  sus 
pected  Marjorie'd  got  a  shock. 

"  Can  she  act  any?  "  says  I. 

"  Act!  "  says  he.  "  It's  enough  to  make  the 
angels  weep  to  see  her  try.  Imagine,  my  boy, 
a  one  hundred  and  thirty-pound  Komeo  trying 
to  hug  his  way  around  a  two  hundred  and  fifty- 
pound  Juliet!  Why,  we'd  have  to  prop  up  the 
balcony  with  a  structural  iron  pillar  and " 

It  was  too  bad  to  have  the  flow  stopped,  for 
he  was  enjoyin'  himself;  but  just  then  the  door 
was  jerked  open  and  in  rushes  Marjorie,  her 
eyes  blazin',  her  face  white,  and  so  mad  she 
couldn't  speak.  As  she  looms  up  in  the  door, 
lookin'  bigger 'n  ever,  she  was  diggin'  some- 
thin'  out  of  her  handbag,  somethin'  shiny.  It 


66  TORCHY 

wa'n't  anything  but  a  silver  purse;  but  the  pro 
fessor  must  have  thought  it  was  somethin'  else, 
for  he  gives  only  one  look.  Then  he  throws  up 
both  hands,  hollers  "  Don't  shoot,  don't 
shoot!  "  and  makes  a  dive  under  a  desk  in  the 
corner.  The  hole  under  that  desk  wa'n't  built 
for  divin'  through;  so  McCallum  wedges  him 
self  in  there  like  a  cork  in  a  bottle,  wavin'  his 
legs  in  the  a.ir,  and  callin'  for  help. 

«  There!  "  says  Marjorie,  throwin'  some 
bills  on  the  floor.  "  That's  for  what  I  owe 
you,  you  horrid  old  fraud !  Baby  elephant,  am 
II  Oh,  you  wretch!  "  With  that  she  goes  out 
and  bangs  the  door  behind  her. 

It  was  all  me  and  the  cornet  artist  next  door 
could  do  to  separate  McCallum  from  the  desk, 
and  even  when  we  worked  him  loose  he  didn't 
want  to  come  out.  When  we'd  got  him  into 
a  chair,  and  he'd  felt  himself  all  over  careful, 
he  says  to  me: 

"  Torchy,  how — how  many  times  did  she 
shoot?  " 

And  when  I  gets  back  to  the  office  Mr.  Rob 
ert  wants  to  know  why  I  didn't  let  'em  know 
I  was  goin'  all  the  way  to  Washington  after 
them  stamps. 

"  Ghee!  "  says  I,  "  but  you're  gettin'  rest 
less!  Maybe  you  think  I  oughter  travel  by 
pneumatic  tube?  Huh!  " 


CHAPTER  V 

WHERE   MILDRED   GOT   NEXT 

THERE'S  no  thin'  wins  out  surer  in  this  town 
of  New  York  than  puttin'  up  a  good  front.  If 
you've  got  the  fur  coat  and  the  goggles  on  your 
cap,  you  can  walk  or  ride  on  a  transfer,  and 
folks '11  take  it  as  a  cinch  that  your  bubble's  back 
in  the  garage  bein'  fitted  with  a  new  set  of 
hundred-dollar  tires.  Why,  just  the  smell  of 
benzin  on  a  suit  you've  had  out  to  the  cleaners 
will  give  'em  the  dream,  if  you  throw  your  chest 
out  right. 

Look  at  the  way  Mildred  has  us  goin'. 
Maybe  you  don't  know  about  Mildred.  Say, 
I'll  bet  if  you  met  up  with  her  on  Fift'-ave. 
you'd  hold  your  breath  till  she  got  by  and  won 
der  whether  she  was  a  Vanderbilt  or  one  of  the 
Goulds!  But  she  floats  into  the  Corrugated 
Trust  offices  more  or  less  reg'lar  every  day, 
just  the  same,  and  does  her  little  stunt  on  the 
typewriter  at  so  much  per.  Honest,  when  I  sees 
her  sailin'  in  mornin's,  with  all  her  swell  dry- 
goods  on,  I'm  just  as  liable  as  not  to  half  break 
my  neck  openin'  the  door  for  her.  That's  what 

67 


68  TOECHY 

I  did  the  first  time  I  saw  her,  when  I  was  new 
on  the  gate. 

"  This  way,  lady,"  says  I,  and  when  she  pikes 
right  by  and  heads  for  the  cloakroom  I  almost 
has  a  fit. 

Maybe  there's  some  hot  ones  down  around 
Broad-st.  that  drives  to  business  in  cabs  and 
pounds  the  keys  durin'  office  hours;  but  for  a 
genuine,  mercerized  near  silk  we  stand  ready  to 
back  Mildred  against  the  field.  She'd  have  an 
expert  guessin',  Mildred  would.  "  Miss  Mor 
gan  "  is  the  way  she  figures  on  the  payroll; 
but  that  never  sounded  rich  enough  for  me. 

It  was  the  first  week  I  was  there  that  I  begun 
to  get  a  line  on  Mildred.  One  day  the  old  man 
calls  me  in  and  hands  me  a  letter  that's  been 
put  on  his  desk  for  him  to  sign.  He  was  plum 
color,  Old  Hickory  was,  so  mad  he  could  have 
chewed  a  file. 

"  Boy,"  says  he,  "  take  this  into  the  main 
office,  find  out  who  M.  M.  is,  and  bring  her  in 
here.  Anybody  that  can  spell  in  that  fashion 
I  want  to  take  a  good  look  at." 

Think  of  the  shock  I  gets  when  Piddie  tells 
me  them  letters  stand  for  Mildred  Morgan. 

"  Lady,"  says  I,  "  I  hates  to  say  it,  but  the 
boss  is  waitin'  to  hand  out  a  calldown  to  you. 
Don't  you  go  to  gettin'  scared  stiff,  though;  for 
the  first  cussword  he  lets  go  of  I'll  chuck  a  chair 
at  him." 


The  smile  I  gets  for  that  would  have  been 
worth  half  a  dozen  jobs.  I  was  lookin'  for  her 
to  go  white  and  begin  bitin'  her  upper  lip,  like 
they  usually  does;  but  she  ain't  that  kind — not 
on  your  nameplate!  She  just  peels  off  the 
sleeve  protectors,  sets  her  side  combs  in  firm, 
gives  her  face  a  dab  or  so  with  the  rabbit's  foot, 
and  starts  along  after  me,  with  that  new  ante 
lope  walk  of  hers,  as  easy  and  pleased  as  if 
she'd  been  asked  to  come  to  the  front  and 
pour  tea. 

And  she's  got  the  costume  the  part  calls  for, 
mind  you !  They're  the  only  clothes  of  the  kind 
I  ever  see  wore  into  this  buildin'.  I  couldn't 
say  what  they  was  made  of;  but  I  know  they're 
the  button-up-the-back  style,  and  that  they  stick 
to  her  as  if  they'd  been  put  on  by  a  paper- 
hanger.  I  guess  you'd  call  Mildred  a  1911 
model.  Anyway,  she  seems  to  bulge  in  the 
right  places;  though  how  anyone  so  long- 
waisted  as  that  can  get  themselves  into  such 
a  rig  without  callin'  for  help  is  somethin'  I 
passes  up. 

Well,  I  tows  her  into  the  boss's  office,  feelin' 
as  mean  as  a  welsher.  The  old  man  has  settled 
back  in  his  chair,  a  cigar  pointin'  out  of  one 
corner  of  his  mouth,  and  a  letter  in  one  fist. 
While  I'm  gone  he's  run  across  another,  worse 
than  the  first,  by  the  marks  he's  made  on  it, 
and  he's  got  to  the  point  where  a  thermometer 


70  TORCHY 

slipped  down  the  back  of  his  neck  would  go  off 
like  a  cap  pistol. 

"  See  here!  "  says  he,  growlin'  it  out 
grouchy,  without  lookin'  up.  "I'd  like  to  have 
you  run  your  eye  over  that,  and  then  tell  me 
where  in  thunder  you  learned  to  spell  such 
s-u-t-c-h!  " 

"  Why,"  says  she,  "  I  always  spell  it  that 
way;  don't  you?  " 

"  Don't  I!  "  roars  the  old  man.  "  Do  you 
take  me  for  a " 

Then  he  looks  up.  Well,  say,  you  talk  about 
your  fadin'  sunsets!  Nothin'  I  ever  see  beat 
the  way  the  boss  lost  his  crushed  raspb'rry  face 
tint  and  bleached  out  salmon  pink.  "  Why — 
why — er — are  you  sure  this  is  some  of  your 
work,  young  woman?  " 

"  Oh  yes,  indeed,"  says  she,  kind  of  gurgly 
and  aristocratic  and  as  sweet  as  pie,  "  that's 
mine.  But  you've  made  so  many  horrid  marks 
on  it  that  I  shall  have  to  do  it  all  over  again. ' ' 

"  Yes,"  says  he,  "I'm  afraid  that's  so.  But 
we  have  a  way  here,  you  know,  of  spelling  ex 
plicit  with  a  C  instead  of  an  S. " 

"  Ruhlly?  "  says  she.    "  How  odd!  " 

"  It's  one  of  our  fads,  too,"  goes  on  the  old 
man,  "  not  to  spell  Corrugated  g-a-i-t-e-d. 
We've  simplified  it  by  leaving  out  the  I.  Of 
course,  we  don't  expect  you  to  learn  all  these 
things  at  once ;  but  pick  'em  up  as  fast  as  you 


WHERE  MILDRED  GOT  NEXT        71 

can.  That — that's  all.  Thank  you  very  much, 
Miss — er What's  the  name?  " 

"  Morgan,"  says  she,  "  Mildred  Morgan." 

"  Ah,"  says  the  boss,  "  very  much  obliged, 
Mil — er — Miss  Morgan,"  and  before  I  could  get 
Ho  the  door  he  has  hopped  up  and  opened  it 
for  her. 

Then  he  turns  around  and  sees  me  standin' 
there  grinnin'.  "  Torchy,"  says  he,  "  are  there 
any  more  like  that  around  the  shop?  " 

"  None  that  I  ever  saw,"  says  I. 

"  Thank  Heaven!  "  says  he.  "  Send  in  one 
of  the  other  kind." 

"  Want  a  real  ripe  one?  "  says  I. 

He  does.  And  say,  we  got  plenty  of  them. 
I  picks  out  one  with  washed-out  eyes,  front 
teeth  that  sticks  out,  and  no  shape  to  speak  of. 
She  could  make  the  typewriter  do  a  double  shuf 
fle,  though,  and  there  couldn't  anybody  around 
the  place  sling  out  words  f  aster 'n  she  could  take 
'em  down  on  her  pad,  or  any  she  couldn't  spell 
right  the  first  crack.  The  old  man  fixes  it  that 
she's  to  go  over  Mildred's  work  with  an  ink 
eraser  before  it  comes  to  him. 

If  Mildred  knew  about  it,  she  never  let  on. 
No  thin'  much  bothered  her.  She'd  come  sailin' 
in  any  old  time  durin'  the  forenoon,  lookin'  as 
han'some  as  a  florist's  window  and  actin'  as 
if  she  never  heard  of  such  a  thing  as  a  time 
clock.  Piddie  tackles  her  only  once. 


72  TOECHY 

"  Miss  Morgan,"  says  he,  "  business  begins 
here  at  nine  o'clock  promptly." 

"  How  absurd!  "  says  Mildred,  and  Piddie 
don't  get  over  the  shock  for  an  hour. 

About  the  second  week  all  hands  took  a  vote 
that  Mildred  wa'n't  much  of  a  success  as  a  type--, 
writer  artist  and  that  she  ought  to  be  fired.  The 
old  man  put  it  up  to  Mr.  Eobert,  and  Mr.  Rob 
ert  shoves  it  back  at  him.  Then  they  both 
loaded  it  onto  Piddie  and  cleared  out.  When 
they  come  back  they  asks  him  if  he's  done  it. 

"  Well,"  says  he,  colorin'  up,  "  not  exactly." 

Come  to  make  him  own  up,  he'd  gone  at  the 
job  so  easy  and  had  been  so  polite  about  it 
that  Miss  Morgan  has  time  to  head  him  off  with 
a  strike  for  more  pay,  and  before  he  can  back 
out  he's  promised  to  see  what  can  be  done. 

"  Couldn't  you  talk  to  her,  Mr.  Ellins?  " 
says  he. 

"  Great  Scott,  no!  "  says  the  boss.  "  Tell 
her  she's  raised,  and  let  it  go  at  that." 

For  awhile,  though,  Mildred  cost  the  firm  a 
lot  more  money  than  her  salary,  if  you  reckon 
up  as  worth  anything  the  time  a  lot  of  two- 
by-four  ink-slingers  spent  makin'  goo-goo  eyes 
at  her.  It  was  a  losin'  game  all  around.  Mil 
dred  didn't  seem  to  be  pinin'  for  any  such 
honors,  and  after  they  got  well  acquainted  with 
the  fact  that  she  wouldn't  stand  for  lunch  in 
vites,  or  bids  to  the  theater,  and  didn't  want  to 


WHERE  MILDBED  GOT  NEXT       73 

be  walked  home  with  by  a  perfect  gent,  they 
let  up  on  that  foolishness.  It  leaves  'em  dizzy, 
though.  There's  pinheads  on  our  gen'ral  office 
staff  who  believes  they  never  missed  breakin' 
a  heart  before,  and  they  can't  figure  out  just 
what's  the  matter  with  the  combination. 

There  was  others,  too,  that  couldn't  place 
Mildred,  until  some  one  hints  that  maybe  she 's  a 
sure  enough  swell  whose  folks  had  gone  broke, 
and  that  she's  picked  out  a  typewriter  job  as 
a  sort  of  trapdoor  that  would  let  her  down  out 
of  sight  and  keep  the  meal  ticket  renewed. 

After  that  Mildred  is  as  much  of  a  myst'ry 
as  why  folks  live  in  Brooklyn.  We  was  all  wise 
to  the  main  proposition,  though,  and  it  was 
funny  to  hear  'em  all  sayin'  that  they'd  known 
it  right  along.  Kind  of  set  us  up  some,  too, 
havin'  a  real  ex-ice  cutter  like  her  right  on  the 
floor  with  us.  All  the  other  key  pounders,  that 
had  been  givin'  her  the  stary  eye  at  first,  flops 
around  and  uses  the  sugar  shaker.  There 
wasn't  anything  they  wouldn't  do  for  her,  and 
they  takes  turns  holdin'  her  jacket,  so's  to  get 
a  peek  at  the  trademark  on  the  inside  of  the 
collar. 

But  Piddie  is  the  most  pleased  of  any.  He 
thinks  he's  right  to  home  among  carriage  folks, 
and  every  time  she  comes  near  he  bows  and 
scrapes  and  begins  to  shoot  off  the  "  Aw,  I'm 
suah's  "  and  the  "  Don'tcher  know's,"  until 


74  TORCHY 

you'd  think  he  was  talkin'  through  a  mouthful 
of  hot  breakfast  food. 

"  Chee!  "  says  I  to  him.  "  You  act  like  you 
thought  this  was  a  five  o'clock  tea." 

"  I  trust,"  says  he,  "I  know  a  lady  when  I 
see  one,  and  that  I  know  how  to  treat  her  too."  < 

"  That's  so,"  says  I.  "  Too  bad  you  wa'n't 
on  the  stage,  Piddie,  in  one  of  them  '  Me  lu'd, 
the  carriage  waits  '  parts." 

That  gives  me  a  cue,  and  the  next  time  she 
sends  me  for  supplies  I  says  to  him,  ' '  Mr.  Pid 
die,"  says  I,  "  the  Lady  Mildred  presents  her 
compliments  and  says  she  wants  a  new  paste 
brush. ' ' 

Gets  him  wild,  that  does;  so  I  sticks  to  it. 
The  others  hears  it  and  picks  it  up  too,  and 
she  wa'n't  called  anything  but  Lady  Mildred 
from  that  on.  First  thing  I  knew  I'd  said  it 
to  her  face ;  but  she  never  so  much  as  looks  sur 
prised.  You'd  thought  she'd  been  called  Lady 
Mildred  all  her  life. 

"  Who  knows?  "  says  Piddie.  "  Perhaps 
she  has." 

Honest,  we  was  makin'  up  all  kinds  of  pipe 
dreams  about  her,  and  believin'  'em  as  we  went 
along.  There  was  no  findin'  out  from  her  what 
was  so  and  what  she  wa'n't.  She  never  gets 
real  chummy  with  anyone ;  but  keeps  us  jollied 
along  about  so  much.  It  was  dead  easy.  All 
she  had  to  do  was  to  throw  a  smile  our  way,  and 


WHERE  MILDRED  GOT  NEXT        75 

we  was  tickled  for  a  week.  Wasn't  anyone 
around  the  place  needed  so  much  waitin'  on  as 
her;  but  no  one  ever  minds.  Gen 'rally  there 
was  two  or  three  on  the  jump  for  her,  and  oth 
ers  willin'  to  be. 

Course,  that  don't  include  Mr.  Robert.  He 
seems  to  think  Lady  Mildred  was  some  kind  of 
a  joke ;  but,  then,  I  expect  he  sees  so  many  stun 
ners  like  her  every  night,  knockin'  around  at 
dinner  parties  and  such,  that  he  gets  tired 
lookin'  at  'em.  I'd  been  carryin'  it  against 
him,  though,  and  maybe  that's  what  put  it  into 
my  nut  to  get  so  gay  with  Louie. 

Louie's  the  gent  in  the  leather  leggin's  and 
north-pole  outfit  that  comes  around  after  Mr. 
Robert  every  night  with  the  machine.  Say,  it's 
a  reg'lar  roHin'  bay  window,  that  car  of  Mr. 
Robert's!  I  wouldn't  mind  havin'  one  of  that 
kind  taggin'  around  after  me.  But  if  I  was 
pickin'  a  shover  I'd  pass  Louie  by.  He  wears 
his  nose  too  high  in  the  air  and  is  too  friendly 
with  himself  to  suit  me.  There's  a  lot  of  them 
honk-honk  boys  just  like  him ;  but  he 's  the  only 
one  I  ever  has  a  chance  to  get  real  confidential 
with.  It's  like  this: 

Mr.  Robert  says  to  me,  "  Torchy,  if  I'm  not 
back  by  five  o'clock,  you  may  tell  Louie  when 
he  comes  that  he  needn't  wait." 

'  *  Sure  thing, ' '  says  I. 

Then,  when  Mr.  Robert  don't  show  tip  at 


76  TORCHY 

closin'  time,  I  chases  down  to  the  curb  and  sin^s 
out,  "  Hey,  Frenchy,  you  tip  huntin'  ex-waiter! 
It's  back  to  the  garage  for  yours!  And  say! 
After  you've  run  your  old  coal  cart  into  the 
shed  you  can  go  let  yourself  out  as  a  sign  for 
a  fur  store.  Ah,  that's  right.  Nothin'  doin' 
here.  Skidoo!  " 

Always  makes  me  feel  better  after  IVe 
handed  Louie  one  like  that — his  ears  turns  such 
a  lovely  pink,  specially  when  there's  a  crowd 
around.  When  I  has  time  to  chew  it  over  I  can 
think  up  some  beauts.  But  this  night  I  was 
goin'  to  tell  you  about  I  didn't  have  any  warnin' 
at  all.  Mr.  Robert  was  right  in  the  middle  of 
a  heart-to-heart  talk  with  a  Pittsburg  man, 
when  five  o'clock  comes  and  the  word  is  sent 
up  that  Louie  has  came. 

"  Tell  him  to  come  back  in  about  half  an 
hour,"  says  Mr.  Robert  to  me. 

"  Repeat  at  five-thirt',"  says  I,  sliding  out 
for  the  elevator. 

It  was  an  elegant  afternoon, — for  pneumonia, 
—slush  and  rain  and  ice-box  zephyrs  gallopin' 
up  and  down  the  street.  Louie  didn't  look  as 
though  he  was  enjoyin'  it  any  too  much,  for 
all  his  furs.  I  was  just  turnin'  up  my  collar 
for  a  dash  across  the  sidewalk  and  back,  when 
out  comes  Lady  Mildred  in  a  raincoat  that 
was  a  dream  and  carryin'  a  silver-handled  um 
brella  such  as  you  don't  find  on  the  bargain 


WHERE  MILDRED  GOT  NEXT        77 

counters.    And  then  I  gets  my  funny  thought. 

"  Carriage  for  you,  miss,"  says  I,  grabbin' 
the  rain  tent  and  hoistin'  it.  "  Right  this  way, 
miss." 

Say,  she's  a  dead  game  sport,  Mildred  is. 
Never  stopped  to  ask  any  fool  questions;  but 
prances  right  out  to  the  car,  just  as  though 
she'd  expected  it  to  be  there. 

"  Take  the  lady  home,  and  be  back  after 
Mr.  Robert  in  half  an  hour,  Louie,"  says  I, 
jerkin'  open  the  door  and  handin'  her  in. 

It  was  about  then  that  I  almost  had  heart 
failure.  Stowed  away  in  the  further  corner, 
as  comf 'table  as  if  he  was  at  the  club,  was 
Benny.  I  forget  what  the  rest  of  his  name 
is;  Mr.  Robert  never  calls  him  anything  but 
Benny.  They're  chums  from  way  back, — travel 
in  the  same  push,  live  on  the  same  block,  and 
has  the  same  ideas  about  killin'  time.  But 
that's  as  far  as  the  twin  description  goes. 
Benny  looks  and  acts  about  as  much  like  Mr. 
Robert  as  a  cream  puff  looks  like  a  ham  sand 
wich.  All  Benny  ever  does  is  put  on  more  fat 
and  grow  more  cushions  on  the  back  of  his 
neck.  He's  about  five  foot  three,  both  ways, 
one  of  these  rolypoly  boys,  with  dimples  all 
over  him,  pink  and  white  cheeks,  and  baby-blue 
eyes.  Oh,  he's  cute,  Benny  is;  but  the  bash- 
fullest  forty-four  fat  that  ever  carried  a  cane, 
a  reg'lar  Mr.  Shy  Ann  kind  of  a  duck.  He 


78  TOBCHY 

has  a  lisp  when  he  talks  too,  and  that  makes 
him  seem  cuter 'n  ever. 

About  twice  a  week  he  drifts  up  to  the  brass 
gate  and  says  to  me,  "  Thay,  thonny,  whereth 
Bob?  "  Makes  my  mouth  pucker  up  like  I'd 
been  suckin'  a  lemon,  just  to  hear  him.  And 
if  he  sees  one  of  the  girls  lookin'  sideways  at 
him  he  '11  dodge  behind  a  post. 

There  he  was,  though,  and  there  was  Mildred 
pilin'  in  alongside  of  him.  She  didn't  give  any 
sign  of  backin'  out,  and  it  was  too  late  for  me 
to  hedge ;  so  I  ups  and  does  the  honors. 

11  Mr.  Benny,"  says  I,  "  Miss  Morgan." 

11  Oh,  I — I  thay,"  splutters  Benny,  makin'  a 
move  to  bolt,  "  perhapth  I'd  better— 

"Forget  it!"  says  I,  slammin'  the  door. 
' '  Ding,  ding,  Louie !  Get  a  move  on !  If  you 
don't  fetch  back  here  by  five-thirt'  you  lose 
your  job.  See?  " 

Frenchy  didn't  need  any  urgin',  though,  and 
he  has  the  wheels  goin'  round  in  no  time  at  all. 
I  watched  the  car  for  a  couple  of  blocks  and 
didn't  see  anything  of  Benny  jumpin'  out  of 
the  window;  so  I  reckons  that  he's  too  scared 
to  make  the  break.  I  had  a  picture  of  him, 
squeezin'  himself  up  against  the  side  of  the 
tonneau,  lookin'  at  his  thumbs,  and  turnin'  all 
kinds  of  colors. 

'  If  it  don't  give  him  apoplexy,  maybe  it'll 
do  him  good,"  thinks  I. 


WHEEE  MILDRED  GOT  NEXT        79 

It  was  funny  while  it  lasted;  but  when  I 
thinks  of  what  Mr.  Robert '11  say  when  the  tale 
is  doped  out  to  him  I  has  a  chill.  First  off  I 
thought  I'd  go  up  and  write  out  my  resignation; 
but  then  I  remembers  how  long  it  is  since  I've 
had  the  sport  of  bein'  fired,  and  I  makes  up  my 
mind  to  see  the  thing  through. 

I  was  lookin'  to  be  called  up  on  the  carpet 
first  thing  next  mornin',  but  it  don't  come.  Mr. 
Robert  never  says  a  word  all  day  long,  nor  the 
next,  and  by  that  time  the  thing  was  gettin' 
on  my  nerves.  Then  Benny  bobs  up,  as  usual. 
I  has  my  eye  peeled  from  the  minute  he  opens 
the  door.  He  don't  look  warlike  or  anything; 
but  you  never  can  tell  about  these  fat  men,  so 
when  he  hits  the  gate  I  dodges  behind  the  wa 
ter  cooler. 

"  Wha — w'ath  the  matter,  thonny?  "  says  he. 

"  G'wan!  "  says  I. 

"  Ithn'tBobin?  "  says  he. 

"  Go  on  in  and  tell  Mr.  Robert,  if  you  want 
to,"  says  I;  "  but  don't  look  for  any  openin' 
to  sit  on  me.  No  pancake  act  for  mine !  ' ' 

He  just  grins  at  that;  but  goes  on  into  the 
office  without  makin'  a  single  pass  at  me. 
Course,  I  was  sure  the  riot  act  was  due  inside 
of  an  hour.  But  never  a  word.  Nor  Mildred 
don't  have  anything  to  say,  either.  It  was  like 
waitin'  for  a  blast  that  don't  go  off. 

Things  went  on  that  way  for  a  couple  of 


80  TOECHY 

weeks,  and  I  was  forgettin'  about  it,  when  Pid- 
die  tells  me  one  mornin'  that  Mildred's  up  and 
quit  and  nobody  knows  why.  About  an  hour 
after  that  Mr.  Robert  sends  for  me. 

"  Torchy,"  says  he,  "I'm  tracing  out  a  mys 
tery,  and  as  you  seem  to  know  about  everything 
that's  going  on,  I'm  going  to  ask  you  to  help 
me  out." 

"  Ah,  say,"  says  I,  "  w'at's  the  use  stringin' 
out  the  agony?  Benny's  squealed,  ain't  he?  ' 

"  No,"  says  Mr.  Eobert.  "  That's  the  point. 
Benny  hasn't.  All  I've  been  able  to  get  out  of 
him  is  that  a  short  time  ago  he  met  a  very 
charming  young  woman — in  my  car. ' ' 

' '  That 's  right, ' '  says  I.  "It  was  me  put  her 
in." 

"  Ah!  "  says  Mr.  Eobert.  "  Now  we're  get 
ting  somewhere." 

*  *  Oh,  you  Ve  hit  the  trail, ' '  says  I. 

"  Well,"  says  he,  "  who  was  she?  " 

"  Why,"  says  I,  "  the  Lady  Mildred." 

'  *  Whe-e-e-ew !  ' '  says  Mr.  Eobert,  through 
his  front  teeth.  "  Not  the  one  that  spells  such 
with  a  T?  " 

"  Ah,  chee!  "  says  I.  "  What's  the  odds  how 
she  spells,  so  long  as  she's  got  Lillian  Russell 
in  the  back  row?  I  didn't  know  your  fat  friend 
was  in  the  car,  anyway,  and  I  thinks  Frenchy 
might  as  well  be  cartin'  her  home  in  the  rain 
as  blockin'  traffic  on  some  side  street.  So  I 


WHERE  MILDRED  GOT  NEXT        81 

just  loads  her  in  and  gives  Louie  the  word.  She 
never  knew  but  what  you  had  sense  enough  to 
do  it  yourself.  Course,  it  was  a  fresh  play  for 
me  to  make;  but  I'll  stand  for  it,  and  if  Benny's 
feelin's  was  hurt,  or  yours  was,  you  got  an  ele 
gant  show  to  take  it  out  on  me.  Come  on !  Get 
out  the  can  and  the  string!  " 

But  you  can't  hustle  Mr.  Robert  along  that 
way.  When  he  gets  his  programme  laid  out 
there  ain't  any  use  to  try  any  broad  jumps.  He 
wants  to  know  all  about  Mildred,  who  she  is, 
where  she  comes  from,  and  what's  her  class. 

"  You  can  take  it  from  me,"  says  I,  "  that 
she's  a  star.  She's  been  up  in  the  top  bunch 
too,  I  guess;  anyone  can  see  that.  But  so 
long  as  she's  jumped  the  job,  where 's  the  sense 
in  lookin'  up  her  pedigree  now?  " 

"  Well,"  says  Mr.  Robert,  "  I  am  still  more 
or  less  interested.  You  see,  she  and  Benny 
are  to  be  married  next  month." 

"  Honest?  "  says  I. 

"  I  have  it  from  Benny  himself,"  says  he. 

"  Did  Benny  tell  you  how  he  worked  up  the 
nerve  to  make  such  a  swift  job  of  it?  "  says  I. 

He  hadn't.  Near  as  I  could  make  out,  Benny 
hadn't  told  much  of  anything. 

"  Well,"  says  I,  "  he's  picked  a  winner, 
ain't  he?  " 

"  That,"  says  Mr.  Robert,  "  is  something  I 
mean  to  find  out." 


82  TOUCHY 

And  say,  if  you  ever  see  that  jaw  of  Mr.  Rob 
ert's,  you'll  know  he  did.  And  she  wa'n't  an 
Astor  or  a  Gould  in  disguise.  She  was  just 
plain  Miss  Morgan,  that  had  come  on  with 
her  mother  from  Kansas  City,  or  Omaha,  or 
somewhere  out  there ;  put  in  six  or  eight  months 
in  a  swell  dressmaker's  shop;  learned  how  to 
make  herself  the  kind  of  clothes  that  look  like 
ready  money;  shuffled  off  her  corn-belt  accent; 
and  then  broke  into  the  typewritin'  game  while 
she  waited  for  somethin'  better  to  turn  up. 

"  And  Benny  was  it,  wa'n't  he?  "  says  I  to 
Mr.  Robert. 

"  With  your  help,  Torchy,"  says  he,  "  it  ap 
pears  that  he  was." 

"  Well,"  says  I,  "  he  needed  the  push,  all 
right,  didn't  he?  " 

Fired?  Me?  Ah,  quit  your  kiddin'!  Why, 
they're  tickled  to  death  now,  all  of  'em. 
They're  beginnin'  to  find  out  that  Mildred's 
quite  a  girl,  even  if  she  ain't  got  a  lot  of  fat- 
wad  folks  back  of  her. 

And  say,  w'atcher  think?  Benny  comes 
around  here  the  other  day  wearin '  a  broad  grin, 
lugs  me  out  to  his  tailor's  to  have  me  taped  for 
a  whole  outfit  of  glad  rags,  and  says  I've  got 
to  be  one  of  the  ushers  at  the  weddin'. 
Wouldn't  that  sting  you! 


CHAPTER  VI 

SHUNTING  BROTHER   BILL 

DON'T  talk  to  me  about  weddin's!  Sure,  I've 
been  mixed  up  in  one.  Maybe  there  was  orange 
blossoms  and  so  on;  but  all  that's  handed  me 
is  a  bunch  of  lemon  buds.  Not  that  I'm  car- 
ryin'  any  grouch.  I  might  have  known  bet 
ter 'n  to  butt  into  any  such  doin's.  Long  as  I 
stick  to  bein'  head  office  boy,  I  knows  who's 
what,  and  what's  which,  and  anyone  that  thinks 
they  can  give  me  the  double  cross  is  welcome  to 
a  try;  but  when  it  comes  to  sittin'  in  at  a  wilt- 
thou  fest  I'm  a  reg'lar  Cousin  Zeke  from  the 
red-mitten  belt. 

Maybe  I  wouldn't  have  done  so  bad,  though, 
if  it  hadn't  been  for  Aunt  Laura.  And  say, 
mark  it  up  on  the  bulletin  right  here,  she  ain't 
my  aunt!  She's  Benny's.  I  was  tellin'  you 
how  I  loaded  Mildred,  our  lady  typewriter  that 
was,  into  Mr.  Robert's  car  alongside  of  Bash 
ful  Benny,  and  what  came  of  it,  wa'n't  IT  And 
how  Benny's  so  grateful  that  he  says  I've  got 
to  be  one  of  the  ushers? 

Well,  it  was  all  goin'  lovely,  and  the  gen'ral 

83 


84  TOECHY 

office  force  has  chipped  in  and  bought  'em  a 
swell  weddin'  present,  and  Benny's  tailor  has 
built  me  a  pair  of  striped  pants  and  a  John 
Drew  coat,  and  Mr.  Mallory's  been  coachin'  me 
how  to  act  when  I  chase  the  folks  into  their 
seats,  and  Piddie's  been  loadin'  me  up  with 
polite  conversation  to  fire  off  whenever  I  gets 
a  show,  and  everything's  as  gay  around  the 
shop  as  though  the  directors  had  voted  an  ex 
tra  dividend — when  I'm  stacked  up  against 
Aunt  Laura  and  it  begins  to  cloud  in  the  west. 

Aunt  Laura  is  all  Benny  can  show  up  for  a 
fam'ly,  and  after  you  got  to  know  her  you 
couldn't  blame  him  for  wantin'  to  start  in  on 
a  new  deal.  She's  one  of  them  narrow-eyed  old 
girls  that  can  look  through  a  keyhole  without 
turnin'  her  head,  and  can  dig  up  more  suspi 
cions  in  a  minute  than  most  folks  would  in  a 
month.  I'll  bet  if  the  angel  Gabriel  should 
show  up  and  send  in  his  card  she'd  make  him 
prove  who  he  was  by  playin'  the  horn. 

It  was  a  cinch  she  didn't  mistake  me  for  no 
angel,  when  Mr.  Eobert  sends  me  up  there  to 
do  an  errand  for  Benny.  I  wa'n't  callin'  for  no 
aunts,  anyway,  but  just  leavin'  a  note  for  Wil 
son — that's  Benny's  man — when  this  sharp- 
nosed  old  party  comes  rubberin'  into  the  front 
hall. 

"  Marie,"  says  she  to  the  girl,  "  what  boy 
is  this?  Where  did  he  come  from?  Who  does 


SHUNTING  BROTHER  BILL          85 

he  want  to  seel  Don't  you  dare  leave  him  alone 
for  a  minute !  ' ' 

That  last  touch  gets  me  in  the  short  ribs. 
"  Ah,  say,"  says  I,  "  do  I  look  like  a  hallrack 
artist?  " 

' '  That  '11  do,  young  man !  ' '  says  she.  * l  You 
may  not  be  as  bad  as  you  look ;  but  I  have  my 
doubts. ' ' 

"  Same  to  you,  ma'am,  and  many  of  'em," 
says  I. 

* '  Mercy !  ' '  says  she.  * '  What  imperti 
nence!  " 

"  Please,  ma'am,"  says  the  girl,  "  Mr.  El- 
lins  sent  him  up,  and  I " 

"  Oh !  "  says  the  old  one.  Then  she  gives  me 
another  look.  "  Boy,"  says  she,  "  what's  your 
name?  " 

"  Torchy,"  says  I.    "  Ain't  it  a  snug  fit?  " 

"  Oh!  "  says  she  again,  and  with  the  soft 
pedal  on.  "  You're  Torchy,  are  you?  " 

"  There  ain't  any  gefctin'  away  from  a  name 
like  that,"  says  I. 

"  Why,"  says  she,  doin'  her  best  to  call  up 
a  smile,  ' '  what  a  bright  young  man  you  are !  ' 

"  Specially  on  top,"  says  I,  throwin'  a  wink 
at  Marie. 

"  Ye-es,"  says  Aunt  Laura,  "  I  always  did 
think  that  copper-red  shade  of  hair  was  real 
pretty.  Come  right  in,  Torchy,  while  Marie 
gets  you  some  cake  and  a  cup  of  tea." 


86  TOECHY 

"I  ain't  turnin'  the  shoulder  to  any 
cake,"  says  I;  "  but  you  can  cut  out 
the  tea." 

Well,  say,  inside  of  three  minutes  from  the 
start  I'm  planted  comf 'table  in  one  of  the  li- 
br'y  chairs,  eatin'  frosted  cake  with  both  hands, 
while  Marie's  off  hustlin'  up  lemonade  and 
fancy  crackers. 

Course,  it  was  some  thin'  of  a  shock,  such  a 
quick  shift  as  that.  I  ain't  got  a  glimmer  as  to 
what  Aunt  Laura's  end  of  the  game  was;  but 
so  long  as  the  home-made  pastry  holds  out  I 
was  as  good  as  nailed  to  the  spot.  She  seems 
to  get  a  heap  of  satisfaction  watchin'  me  eat, 
almost  as  much  as  though  she  was  feedin' 
ground  glass  to  her  best  enemy.  You've  seen 
that  kind,  that  you  can  stand  well  enough  un 
til  they  begin  to  grin  at  you.  Aunt  Laura's 
bluff  at  smilin'  was  enough  to  make  a  cat  get 
its  back  up,  and  you  could  tell  she  didn't  really 
mean  it,  as  well  as  if  she'd  said,  "  Now  I'm 
goin'  to  give  you  an  imitation  of  somebody 
that's  pleased." 

And  all  the  time  she  was  dealin'  out  a  line 
of  talk  that  was  as  smooth  as  wet  asphalt.  Most 
of  it  was  hot  air  that  she  said  Benny 'd  been 
givin'  to  her  about  me,  and  how  sweet  Mildred 
thought  I  was. 

That  should  have  been  my  cue ;  but  I  was  too 
busy  with  the  cake. 


SHUNTING  BROTHER  BILL          87 

"  Miss  Morgan  is  such  a  dear  girl,  isn't 
she?  "  says  Aunt  Laura. 

"  Uh-huh,"  says  I,  pokin'  in  some  frostin' 
that  had  lodged  on  the  outside. 

"  You  are  quite  well  acquainted  with  her, 
aren't  you?  "  says  she. 

"  Um-m-m-m, "  says  I. 

"  Let's  see,"  goes  on  Aunt  Laura,  "  what  is 
it  she  did  at  the  office?  " 

"  Chickety-click,  ding-g-g!  "  says  I,  makin' 
motions  with  my  fingers. 

"  Oh,  typewriting!  "  says  she.  "  But  I  sup 
pose  she  was  very  skillful  at  it?  " 

"  Oh,  she  was  a  bird!  "  says  I. 

See  what  was  happenin'?  I  was  bein' 
pumped.  It  was  more'n  that  too.  Everything 
I  knew  about  Mildred,  and  a  lot  I  guessed  at, 
was  emptied  out  of  me  like  she  was  usin'  one 
of  these  vacuum  cleaners  on  my  head.  When 
I  gets  to  telling  about  the  place  out  West  where 
Mildred  lived  before  she  and  her  maw  hit  New 
York,  Aunt  Laura  jumps  up. 

"  Oh,  I  know  some  people  who  lived  there 
once,"  says  she.  "  I  wonder  if  any  of  them 
knew  Miss  Morgan?  " 

With  that  she  picks  up  the  desk  'phone  and 
gives  a  call.  Did  they  know  any  Miss  Morgans 
out  there?  Yes,  Mildred  Morgan.  Really!  A 
brother  too?  How  interesting!  Who  was  he, 
and  what  was  he  doing  last?  What!  In  the 


88  TORCHY 

State  penitentiary !  That  was  enough  for  Aunt 
Laura.  She  hangs  up  the  receiver  and  says 
to  me: 

11  Boy,  when  you  get  back  to  the  office  tell 
Mr.  Robert  I  want  to  see  him.  Come,  you'd 
better  be  going  now. ' ' 

It  was  a  case  of  "  Here's  your  hat — what's 
your  hurry!  ' 

"  Say,"  says  I,  "  don't  you  go  to  swallowin' 
any  tale  about  the  Lady  Mildred  havin'  a 
brother  that's  a  crook.  There's  lots  of  Mor 
gans  besides  her  and  J.  P." 

But  all  Aunt  Laura  does  is  hold  the  door 
open  for  me;  so  I  beats  it,  feelin'  about  as  chip 
per  as  though  I'd  been  turnin'  State's  evidence. 
The  more  I  thinks  of  it,  the  cheaper  I  feels. 
Here  I'd  been  playin'  myself  for  Mr.  Foxy 
Cute,  and  had  let  an  old  lemon  squeezer  like 
Aunt  Laura  wring  me  dry ! 

Just  what  she's  got  up  her  sleeve  about  the 
penitentiary  business,  I  didn't  know;  but  I 
wa'n't  long  in  findin'  out.  Next  day  there  was 
all  kinds  of  a  row.  Aunt  Laura  has  looked  up 
the  invitation  list  for  the  weddin',  and,  sure 
enough,  among  the  also  rans  was  a  Mr.  William 
Morgan,  with  a  State  penitentiary  address. 
With  that,  and  what  she'd  heard  over  the 
'phone,  Aunt  Laura  makes  out  a  strong  case. 
Was  she  goin'  to  stand  by  and  see  her  only 
nephew  marry  into  a  family  of  jailbirds'?  Not 


SHUNTING  BROTHER  BILL         89 

if  she  could  help  it!  So  she  calls  in  Mr.  Rob 
ert  and  puts  the  layout  before  him. 

It  looks  like  a  bad  mess,  with  Mildred  on  the 
toboggan;  for  Mr.  Robert  has  said  he'd  see 
what  could  be  done.  He  don't  promise  any 
thing;  but  Benny's  always  been  such  a  willin' 
performer  that  he  guesses  maybe  he  can  talk 
him  out  of  wantin'  to  get  married.  He  didn't 
know  Benny,  though.  These  short,  fat,  dim 
pled  boys  are  just  the  ones  to  fool  you,  and 
when  it  came  to  tellin'  Benny  about  Brother 
Bill,  that  was  doin'  time,  Benny  works  his  lips 
at  high  speed  sayin'  that  he  don't  believe  it. 

"  Anyway,"  says  Benny,  "  it  ithn't  Bill  I'm 
marrying.  I  don't  give  a  cuth  for  him.  I'd 
juth  ath  thoon  marry  Mildred  if  her  whole 
doothed  family  wath  in  jail." 

11  That  settles  it,  Benny,"  says  Mr.  Robert. 
"  If  that's  the  way  you  feel,  I'll  stand  by  you." 

Maybe  Aunt  Laura  wa'n't  wild,  though,  when 
*  she  finds  she  can't  block  the  game.  I  was 
handlin'  the  office  switchboard  the  afternoon 
she  calls  Mr.  Robert  up  to  give  him  the  rake- 
over,  and  the  old  girl  warms  up  the  wires  un 
til  she  near  has  the  lightnin'  arresters  out  of 
business.  It  comes  out  too  that  she's  sore  on 
Benny's  bein'  married  because  she  sees  the  fin 
ish  of  her  steady  job  as  boss  of  the  house  on 
the  avenue.  She  can't  queer  Mr.  Robert, 
though. 


90  TOUCHY 

"  Benny  seems  to  have  a  clear  idea  as  to  just 
whom  he  wants  to  marry,"  says  he,  "  and 
that's  enough  for  me.  If  Miss  Morgan  has  a 
brother  in  the  penitentiary,  and  Benny  doesn't 
mind,  I'm  sure  I  don't.  I've  known  lots  of 
fellows  who  wished  their  brothers-in-law  were 
in  the  same  place.  Anyway,  he'll  not  trouble 
us  by  showing  up  at  the  wedding,  even  if  she 
did  send  him  an  invitation." 

That's  the  kind  of  a  sport  Mr.  Eobert  is. 
He's  dead  game,  and  when  you've  got  him  for 
a  friend  you'll  know  who  to  send  for  if  you 
should  ever  get  run  in.  So  we  goes  along  get- 
tin'  ready  for  the  weddin'  same's  if  nothin's 
happened.  It's  billed  for  a  church  hitch;  but 
there  ain't  been  any  advertisin'  done,  so  they 
don't  expect  any  crowd.  Look  when  they  has 
it  too — right  at  lunch  time! 

"  Chee!  "  says  I  to  Mr.  Eobert,  who's  run 
ning  the  thing,  "  you  must  be  playin'  for  a 
frost.  Now  if  you'd  hire  one  of  them  Third- 
ave.  halls  and  band,  you  might  give  'em  some- 
thin'  of  a  send-off;  but  it'll  be  hard  to  tell  this 
racket  from  one  of  these  noonday  prayin'  bees 
they  has  down  in  the  wholesale  crock 'ry 
district. ' ' 

Mr.  Eobert  says  that  Benny  bein'  so  bash 
ful,  and  Mildred  not  knowin'  many  folks  on 
East,  they  wanted  to  make  it  as  quiet  as  they 
could. 


SHUNTING  BROTHER  BILL         91 

"  It'll  have  a  pantomime  show  beat  to  death 
on  quiet,"  says  I.  "  Put  me  on  the  door,  will 
you,  so's  I  can  keep  awake  joshin'  the  sidewalk 
cop?  " 

Mr.  Robert  says  he  thinks  that'll  be  a  good 
place  for  me,  as  they  ain't  go  in'  to  let  anyone 
in  without  a  ticket  and  I'm  used  to  shuntin' 
cranks.  But  say,  I'm  so  rattled  when  I  get 
inside  of  that  suit  they  sent  around  for  me 
to  wear  that  I  don't  know  whether  I'm  goin' 
up  or  comin'  down.  Honest,  that  coat  made 
me  feel  like  I  was  wearin'  a  dress.  I  didn't 
mind  the  striped  pants, — they  was  all  to  the 
good, — but  them  skirts  flappin'  around  my 
knees  was  the  limit. 

Think  I  had  the  face  to  spring  that  outfit 
on  the  folks  at  the  boardin'  house?  Never  in 
a  year!  Why,  some  of  them  Lizzie  girls 
rangin'  the  block  would  have  guyed  me  out  of 
the  borough.  I  just  folds  the  thing  inside  out 
over  my  arm,  like  it  was  some  one's  overcoat  I 
was  takin'  around  to  have  a  button  shifted,  and 
when  I  gets  to  the  church  I  slides  up  into  the 
gallery  and  makes  a  quick  change.  Mr.  Rob 
ert  looks  me  over  and  says  no  one  would  guess 
it  was  me. 

''I'm  hopin'  they  don't,"  says  I. 

But  as  soon  as  the  carriages  begun  comin' 
and  I  gets  busy  callin'  for  the  seat  checks,  I 
forgets  how  I  looks  and  stops  huntin'  for  some 


92  TORCHY 

place  to  stow  my  hands.  It  was  a  cinch  job. 
There  was  only  a  few  lady  butt-ins  that  had 
strayed  over  from  the  shoppin'  district  and 
smelled  out  a  free  show. 

"  We're  intimate  friends  of  the  bride,"  says 
a  pair  of  'em;  "  but  we've  forgotten  our  tick 
ets." 

"  That's  good,  but  musty.  Butt  out,  please," 
says  I. 

Chee!  but  I  ain't  used  up  so  much  politeness 
since  I  can  remember!  It  was  wearin'  them 
clothes  did  it,  I  guess. 

Well,  I  was  gettin'  to  feel  real  gay,  for  most 
everyone  that  was  due  was  inside,  and  I  hadn't 
made  any  breaks  to  speak  of,  and  it  was  near 
time  for  the  Lady  Mildred  to  be  floatin'  in, 
when  I  pipes  off  a  tall,  husky-lookin'  gent, 
with  a  funny  black  lid  and  an  umbrella  tucked 
under  one  arm,  gawpin'  up  at  the  sign  on  the 
church. 

"  Tourist  from  Punk  Hollow  lookin'  for  the 
Flatiron  Buildin',"  says  I  to  myself;  but  the 
next  minute  he  comes  meanderin'  up  the  steps, 
fishin'  a  card  out  of  his  pocket.  You  can  bet 
I  plants  myself  in  the  door  and  calls  for  cre 
dentials  ! 

But,  say,  he  had  the  goods.  There  was  the 
ticket,  all  right,  with  the  name  wrote  on  it, 
and  it  didn't  need  but  one  squint  at  the 
pasteboard  for  me  to  break  into  a  cold 


SHUNTING  BEOTHER  BILL          93 

sweat.    It  wa'n't  anybody  else  but  Mr.  William 
Morgan ! 

"  Say,"  says  I,  as  hoarse  as  a  huckster,  "  are 
you  Brother  Bill?  " 

"  Why,"  says  he,  kind  of  surprised,  but  not1 
half  so  stunned  as  I  thought  he'd  be, — "  why, 
I  suppose  I  am." 

You  wouldn't  have  guessed  it.  Not  that  he 
didn't  look  the  brother  part;  for  he  did.  He 
went  Mildred  two  or  three  inches  better  in 
height,  and  he  had  snappy  black  eyes  and  black 
hair  like  hers.  The  points  that  goes  with  a 
striped  suit  and  the  lock  step  was  missin', 
though.  But  how  you  goin'  to  tell,  in  these 
times  when  our  toniest  fatwads  is  sittin'  around 
the  mahogany  votin'  to  raise  the  price  of 
chewin'  gum  to-day,  and  gettin'  a  free  hair 
cut  to-morrow?  There  wa'n't  any  time  for 
me  to  stand  there  guessin'  whether  he'd 
been  pardoned,  or  had  slid  down  the  rain 
pipe.  Somethin'  had  to  be  done,  and 
done  quick. 

"  Dodge  in  here  and  wait  a  minute,"  says  I. 
"  There's  some  word  been  left  for  you." 

With  that  I  sneaks  down  the  side  aisle  and 
into  the  little  cloakroom,  where  Mr.  Robert  was 
keepin'  Benny's  mind  off'n  what  was  comin' 
to  him  by  makin'  him  count  the  geranium 
leaves  in  the  carpet. 

"  Mr.  Robert,"  says  I,  luggin'  him  off  to 


94  TOECHY 

one  side,  "  you  want  to  give  up  predictin*  the 
future.    Bill's  come!  " 

11  What  Bill?  "  says  he. 

"  The  one  from  the  rock  pile,  Brother  Bill,'* 
says  I. 
1     "  That's  lovely!  "  says  he. 

"It's  all  of  that,"  says  I. 

"  I  hope  he's  not  wearing  his  uniform  still," 
says  Mr.  Eobert. 

"  Not  on  the  outside,"  says  I.  "  He  looks 
like  he'd  pinched  a  minister's  Monday  suit 
somewhere.  But  it  ain't  the  way  he  looks 
that's  worryin'  me;  it's  what  he's  liable  to  do 
any  minute  to  put  the  show  on  the  blink." 

"  That's  so,  Torchy,"  says  he.  "  Can't  we 
get  him  out  of  the  way  somehow?  " 

"  It's  a  tough  proposition,"  says  I;  "  but  if 
you'll  put  on  a  sub  for  me  at  the  door,  and 
give  me  leave  to  make  any  play  that  I  happens 
to  think  of,  I'll  tackle  it." 

"Good!"  says  Mr.  Eobert.  "And  I'll 
make  it  worth  a  hundred  to  you  to  keep  him 
away  from  here  until  it's  all  over." 

"  I'm  on  the  job,"  says  I. 

As  I  skips  back  I  grabs  my  hat  out  from  un 
der  a  rear  seat  and  makes  straight  for  Brother 
Bill.  "  Come  on,"  says  I.  "  She's  waitin' 
for  you  now.  We've  got  just  half  an  hour  to 
do  it  in." 

Bill,  he  looks  sort  of  jarred  and  reluctant; 


SHUNTING  BROTHER  BILL         95 

but  I  has  him  by  the  arm  and  is  chasm*  him 
down  the  steps  before  he  can  ask  any  dippy 
questions.  First  off  I  thought  of  runnin' 
him  up  the  avenue  until  he's  clean  winded; 
but  I  see  by  the  way  he  strikes  out  that  it 
would  take  more  lungs  than  I've  got  to  do 
that. 

There  was  a  lot  of  weddin'  cabs  and  such 
waitin'  round  the  corner,  though;  so  I  steers 
him  into  the  first  one  that  has  the  apron  up, 
jumps  in  after  him,  shoves  up  the  door  in  the 
roof,  and  sings  out: 

"Beat  it!  This  ain't  any  dream  carnival 
you're  hirecLfor!  '; 

"  What  number?  "  says  the  bone  thumper. 

For  about  two  shakes  I  was  up  against  it, 
and  then  the  only  place  I  could  think  of  was 
Benny's  house;  so  I  give  him  that,  and  off  we 
goes. 

* '  But  I  say,  young  man, ' '  says  Brother  Bill, 
' l  I  came  on  to  go  to  the  wedding. ' ' 

"  Sure,"  says  I;  "  that'll  be  all  right  too. 
Didn't  I  tell  you  there  was  some  word  left  for 
you?  " 

"  Yes,"  says  he,  "I  believe  you  did.  Also 
you  said  something  about  her  waiting " 

"  Right  again,"  says  I.  "  She'll  be  tickled 
to  death  to  see  you  too." 

"  Yes;  but  the  wedding?  "  says  he. 

"  That'll    be    there    when    we    get    back — 


96  TOECHY 

maybe,"  says  I.  "  You  came  on  kind  of  unex 
pected,  eh?  " 

"  Yes,"  says  he.  "  I  didn't  think  I  could 
get  away  at  first;  but  I  managed  it." 

"  How'd  you  get  out?  "  says  I.  "  Was  it  a 
clean  quit,  or  a  little  vacation?  ' 

"  Why — er — why,"  says  he, — "  yes,  it  was  a 
— er — little  vacation,  as  you  say." 

"Ghee!"  thinks  I.  "The  nerve  of  him! 
Wonder  if  he  sawed  the  bars,  or  sneaked  out 
in  a  packin'  case?  "  But,  say,  I  couldn't  put 
it  to  him  straight.  When  I  gets  these  bashful 
fits  on  I  ain't  any  use. 

"  How  long  you  been  in?  "  says  I. 

"  In?  "  says  he.  "Oh,  I  see!  About  five 
years." 

"  Honest?  "  says  I. 

Then  I  had  another  modest  spell  that  won't 
let  me  ask  him  whether  he'd  been  put  away  for 
givin'  rebates,  or  grabbin'  for  graft.  I  knew 
it  must  have  been  somethin'  respectable  like 
that.  Anyone  could  see  he  wa'n't  one  of  your 
strong  arms  or  till  friskers. 

I  was  just  wishin'  I  knew  how  to  work  the 
force  pump  like  Aunt  Laura,  when  we  pulls 
up  at  the  horse  block,  and  it  was  up  to  me  to 
think  of  some  new  move. 

"  She's  here,  is  she?  "  says  Mr.  William. 

"  You  bet! >:  says  I,  wondering  who  he 
thought  I  meant.  And  then  I  gets  that  funny 


SHUNTING  BROTHER  BILL          97 

feelin'  I  gen 'rally  has  when  I  takes  the  high 
jump.  "  Come  on,"  says  I.  "  We'll  give  her 
a  surprise." 

It  wa'n't  anything  else.  I  knew  she'd  be  to 
home,  'cause  I'd  heard  she  was  too  grouchy 
to  go  to  the  weddin'  or  have  anything  to  do' 
with  it ;  so  when  Marie  let  us  in  I  throws  a  tall 
bluff  and  says  for  her  to  tell  Aunt  Laura  I've 
brought  some  one  she  wants  to  see  very  par- 
tic 'lar. 

"  Why,"  says  Mr.  Morgan,  "  there's  been 
some  mistake,  hasn't  there?  I  know  no  such 
person.  Why  should  she  wish  to  see  me?  ' 

"  Sh-h-h-h!  "  says  I.  "  Maybe  she'll  feed 
you  frosted  cake.  It's  one  of  her  tricks." 

She  didn't,  though.  She  looked  about  as 
smilin'  as  a  dill  pickle  when  she  showed  up,  and 
she  opened  the  ball  by  askin'  what  I  meant, 
bringin'  strangers  there. 

"  Well,"  says  I,  "  you've  been  askin'  a  lot 
about  him  lately;  so  I  thought  I'd  lug  him 
around.  This  is  Brother  Bill." 

"  What!  "  says  she,  squealin'  it  out  like  I'd 
said  the  house  was  afire.  "  Not  the  brother  of 
that — that  Morgan  girl?  " 

"  Ask  him,"  says  I.  "  You're  a  star  at 
that." 

Then  I  takes  a  peek  at  Bill.  And  say,  I  was 
almost  sorry  I'd  done  it.  For  a  party  that'd 
just  broke  jail,  he  could  stand  the  least  I  ever 


98  TOKCHY 

saw.  He  looks  as  mixed  up  and  helpless  as  a 
lady  that's  took  a  seat  in  the  smokin'  car  by 
mistake.  I'd  have  helped  him  out  then  if  I 
could  have  thought  how.  It  was  too  late, 
though,  and  Aunt  Laura  was  no  quitter. 

"  How  long  is  it,"  says  she,  jerkin'  her  head 
back  and  throwin'  a  look  out  of  her  narrow  eyes 
that  must  have  gone  clear  through  him,  "  since 
you  got  out  of  the  State  penitentiary?  ' 

"  Why — why — er — er "  begins  Brother 

Bill. 

Then  he  has  the  biggest  stroke  of  luck  that 
ever  came  his  way;  for  Marie  pushes  in  with 
the  silver  plate  and  a  card  on  it. 

*  *  Thank  goodness !  ' '  says  Aunt  Laura, 
lookin'  at  the  card.  "  The  very  person  I  need! 
Ask  Dr.  Wackhorn  to  step  in  here." 

I  thought  he  must  be  a  germ  chaser;  but  it 
was  just  a  minister,  a  solid,  prosperous  lookin' 
old  gent,  with  white  billboards  and  a  meat  safe 
on  him  like  a  ten-dollar  Teddy  bear.  He  looks 
at  Brother  Bill,  and  Bill  looks  at  him. 

<  <  Why,  my  dear  William !  ' '  sings  out  the 
Doc,  rushin'  over  with  the  glad  hand  out. 

In  two  minutes  it's  all  over.  Dr.  Wackhorn 
has  introduced  Bill  as  his  ex-assistant,  who's 
gone  West  and  got  himself  a  job  as  chaplain  in 
a  State  prison,  and  Aunt  Laura  loses  her 
breath  tryin'  to  apologize  to  both  of  'em  at 
once.  Think  of  that!  We'd  been  playin'  him 


99 

for  all  kinds  of  a  crook,  and  here  lie  was  a 
sure  enough  minister! 

"Well,  I  gets  him  back  to  the  church  just  in 
time  for  the  last  curtain,  so  he  can  see  what 
a  stunner  Mildred  was  in  her  canopy-top  outfit. 
He's  all  right,  Brother  Bill  is.  Never  gives  me 
any  call-down  for  shuntin'  him  off  the  way  I 
did  and  makin'  him  miss  most  of  the  show.  As 
I  says  to  him  afterward: 

"  Bill,"  says  I,  "  that  was  one  on  me.  But 
we  did  throw  the  hook  into  Aunt  Laura  some ! 
What?  " 


CHAPTEE 

KEEPING  TABS   ON   PIDDIE 

SAY,  I  thought  I  knew  Piddle.  If  anybody 'd 
asked  me  to  pick  a  party  for  the  Honest  John 
act  from  among  the  crowd  we  got  around  the 
Corrugated  Trust  here,  I'd  made  J.  Hemming- 
way  Piddie  my  one  best  bet.  He's  been  with 
the  concern  ever  since  Old  Hickory  Ellins  flim- 
flammed  his  partners  out  of  their  share  of  the 
business  and  took  out  a  New  Jersey  chartered 
permit  that  allowed  him  to  practice  grand 
larceny. 

If  Piddie  hadn't  been  a  pinhead,  he'd  had 
his  name  on  the  board  of  directors  years  ago. 
But  there  ain't  no  use  tryin'  to  make  parlor 
comp'ny  out  of  kitchen  help;  so  Piddie 's  just 
trailed  along,  bein'  as  useful  as  he  knew  how, 
and  workin'  up  from  ten  a  week  to  one  fifty 
a  month,  just  as  satisfied  as  if  he  was  gettin' 
his  per  cent,  of  the  profits. 

What  he  does  around  the  shop  wouldn't  turn 
anyone  gray-headed;  but  he  makes  the  most 
of  it.  He  swells  up  more  over  orderin'  a  few 
office  supplies  than  Mr.  Robert  would  about 

100 
t 


KEEPING  TABS  ON  PIDDIE       101 

signin'  a  million-dollar  contract,  and  the  way 
he  keeps  watch  of  the  towels  and  soap  and 
spring  water  you'd  think  our  stock  was  fallin' 
below  par,  'stead  of  payin'  nine  per  cent,  on 
common.  Generally  Piddie  don't  handle  any 
thing  but  petty  cash;  but  once  in  awhile,  when 
no  one  else  is  handy,  they  chuck  something  big 
his  way,  and  he  never  lets  up  until  everyone 
knows  all  about  it.  You  can  tell  how  chesty 
he  feels,  just  by  his  strut. 

Well,  there  'd  been  a  big  rush  on,  and  they 
was  usin'  Piddie  more  or  less  frequent,  so  I 
was  gettin'  used  to  his  makin'  a  noise  like  a 
balloon,  when  one  mornin'  he  come  turkeyin' 
out  to  the  brass  gate  and  says  to  me : 

"  Torchy,  call  up  0079  Broad  and  get  the 
opening  on  Blitzen." 

"  Sure,"  says  I.  "  And  if  it  touches  seven- 
eighths  don't  you  want  to  unload  a  couple  of 
thousand  shares?  " 

"  When  I  have  any  further  orders,"  says  he, 
puffin'  out  his  face,  "  you  will  get  them!  ' 

"  Oh,  slush!  "  says  I.  "  Don't  play  so 
rough,  Piddie." 

I  was  onto  him,  all  right.  I've  seen  these 
hot-air  plungers  before.  They  follow  up  a  stock 
for  weeks,  and  buy  and  sell  in  six  figures,  and 
reckon  up  how  they've  hit  the  market  for  great 
chunks — but  it's  all  under  their  lids.  You  can't 
spend  pipe  dreams,  if  you  win ;  and  if  you  lose, 


102  TORCHY 

it  don't  shrink  the  size  of  your  really  truly  roll. 
It's  almost  as  satisfyin'  as  walkin  by  the  back 
door  of  a  bakery  when  you're  hungry.  That 
kind  of  game  is  about  Piddie's  size,  too.  All 
it  calls  for  is  plenty  of  imagination,  and  he's 
got  that  by  the  bale.  I  was  kind  of  glad  to 
see  him  enjoyin'  himself  so  innocent,  and  now 
and  then  I'd  help  along  the  excitement. 

"  Heard  about  how  Morgan's  tryin'  to  get 
hold  of  Blitzen?  "I'd  say,  and  Piddie  would 
prick  up  his  ears  like  a  fox-terrier  sightin'  a 
rat. 

"  Who  told  you?  "  Piddie 'd  ask. 

"  Why,"  I'd  say,  "  I  got  it  straight  from  a 
delicatessen  man  that  lives  on  the  same  block 
with  a  man  that  runs  a  hot  dog  cart  in  John-st. 
Don't  want  anything  closer 'n  that,  do  you?  ' 

Then  Piddie 'd  look  kind  of  foolish,  and  go 
off  and  call  down  some  one  good  and  hard,  just 
to  relieve  his  feelin's. 

First  thing  I  knew,  though,  Piddie  was 
havin'  star-chamber  sessions  with  a  seedy- 
lookin'  piker  that  wore  an  actor's  overcoat  and 
a  brunette  collar  that  looked  like  it  had  been 
wished  onto  his  neck  about  last  Thanksgivin'. 
They'd  get  together  in  a  corner  of  the  recep 
tion  room  and  whisper  away  for  half  an  hour 
on  a  stretch.  If  it  hadn't  been  Piddie,  I'd  put 
it  down  for  a  hard-luck  tale  with  a  swift  touch 
for  a  curtain;  but  no  one  that  ever  took  a  sec- 


KEEPING  TABS  ON  PIDDIE        103 

ond  look  at  Piddle  would  ever  waste  their  time 
tryin'  a  touch  on  him.  So  I  guessed  the  gent 
was  a  bucketshop  tout  who  was  tryin'  to  inter 
est  Piddie  in  some  kind  of  a  deal. 

Still,  I  couldn't  get  any  picture  of  Piddie 
takin'  a  chance  with  real  money.  It  wa'n't  un 
til  I  seen  him  walkin'  around  stary-eyed  one 
day,  and  gettin'  nervous  by  the  minute,  that 
I  could  believe  he's  really  been  rung  in.  He 
was  goin'  through  all  the  motions,  though,  of 
a  man  that's  shoved  everything,  win  or  lose, 
on  the  red,  and  it  was  a  circus  to  keep  tabs  on 
him.  He  makes  a  bluff  at  bein'  awful  busy 
with  the  billbook;  but  he  couldn't  stay  at  the 
desk  more'n  three  minutes  at  a  spell.  Inside 
of  an  hour  I  counted  four  times  that  he  washed 
his  hands  and  six  drinks  of  water  that  he  had. 

"  You'll  be  damp  enough  to  need  wringin' 
out,  if  you  keep  that  up,"  says  I. 

"  Keep  what  up?  "  says  he.  Honest,  he  was 
so  rattled  he  didn't  know  whether  he  was  usin' 
the  roller  towel  or  runnin'  over  the  ticker  tape. 
Half  an  hour  before  lunchtime  he  skips  out  and 
leaves  word  with  me  that  maybe  he'll  be  back 
late. 

"  All  right,"  says  I.  "If  the  boss  calls  for 
you  I'll  tell  him  he'll  have  to  shut  down  the 
shop  until  you  blow  in  again." 

Maybe  you've  seen  symptoms  like  that  in  a 
hired  man.  It  gen 'rally  means  that  there's 


104  TOECHY 

some  thin'  do  in'  in  ponies  or  margins,  and  that 
next  payday  is  goin'  to  seem  a  long  ways  off. 
If  I'd  been  asked  to  give  a  guess,  I  should  have 
put  it  as  about  two  hundred  bucks  that  Piddie 
had  thrown  into  the  market.  Anyway,  it  wa'n't 
enough  to  knock  the  props  out  of  call-money 
quotations;  so  I  was  lettin'  Piddie  do  all  the 
worryin'. 

He  didn't  show  back  at  twelve-thirty,  nor 
at  twelve-forty-five.  Some  one  else  did,  though. 
She  was  a  nice  little  lady,  one  of  the  smooth- 
haired,  big-eyed  kind,  as  soft  talkin'  and  as 
gentle  actin'  as  the  heroine  in  "No  Weddin' 
Cake  for  Her'n,"  just  before  she  gets  to  the 
weepy  scenes.  You  could  see  by  the  punky 
mill'nery  and  the  last  season's  drygoods  that 
she'd  just  drifted  in  from  Mortgagehurst,  New 
Jersey.  The  little  snoozer  she  has  by  the  hand 
was  a  cute  one,  though.  When  he  gets  a 
glimpse  of  my  sunset  top  piece  he  sings  out : 

"  O-o-o-o,  mama!    Burny,  burn!  " 

1 '  Why,  Hemmingway !  ' '  says  she.  ' '  I  am 
surprised.  Naughty,  naughty!  " 

"  Don't  worry,  lady,"  says  I.  "  The  kid's 
got  it  dead  right — it's  one  of  them  kind." 

Then  I  wets  my  finger  and  shows  him  how 
it'll  go  "  S-z-z!  "  when  I  touch  it  off.  That 
gets  a  laugh  out  of  little  Hemmingway,  and  in 
a  minute  we're  all  good  friends. 

She's  Mrs.  Piddie,  of  course,  and  she's  a 


KEEPING  TABS  ON  PIDDIE       105 

brick.  Say,  how  is  it  these  two-by-fours  can 
pull  out  such  good  ones  so  often?  Why,  if 
she'd  been  got  up  accordin'  to  this  year's  mod 
els,  and  could  have  thrown  the  front  she  ought 
to,  she'd  have  been  fit  for  a  first-tier  box  at 
the  grand  op'ra. 

"  Chee!  "  thinks  I.  "  Did  she  pick  Piddie 
in  the  dark?  " 

She'd  come  in  to  drag  him  out  shoppin'  and 
hypnotize  him  into  loosenin'  up.  It  was  a  case 
of  gettin'  things  for  little  Hemmingway. 

"  Me,  I  go  have  new  s'oes,  an'  new  coat  wif 
pockets  too,"  says  he. 

Say,  they  wins  me,  kids  like  that  do.  There's 
some  I  ain't  got  any  use  for,  the  kind  brought 
up  in  hotels  and  boardin'  houses  that  learn 
to  play  to  the  gallery  before  they  can  feed 
themselves,  and  others  I  could  name ;  but  clean, 
grinnin'  youngsters,  with  big  eyes  that  take  in 
everything,  they're  good  to  have  around.  And 
little  Hemniy  was  a  star.  I  got  so  int 'rested 
showin'  him  things  in  the  office  that  I  clean 
forgot  about  Piddie  and  what  he  was  up  to. 

"  He  will  be  back  soon,  won't  he?  "  says 
Mrs.  Piddie. 

Now  if  you  give  me  time  I  can  slick  up  an 
answer  so  it'll  sound  like  the  truth  and  mean 
something  else;  but  as  an  offhand  liar  I'm  a 
frost.  Somehow  I  always  has  to  swaller  some- 
thin'  before  I  can  push  out  a  cold  dope.  Course, 


106  TOECHY 

I  knew  he'd  got  to  be  back  before  long;  but  I 
see  right  off  that  this  wa'n't  any  day  for  a 
fam'ly  reunion.  Piddie  wa'n't  goin'  to  be  any 
too  sociable  by  dinner  time  that  night,  'less'n 
he'd  hit  up  the  bucketshop,  which  the  chances 
was  against.  So  it  was  my  turn  to  make  a  foxy 
play. 

"  He's  due  here  before  long,  that's  a  fact," 
says  I,  "  but  there's  no  tellin'.  You  see,  there's 
a  big  deal  on,  and  Mr.  Piddie 's  gone  downtown, 
and " 


1 1 


Oh!  "  says  Mrs.  Piddie,  her  eyes  shinin'. 
"  Then  he  has  some  important  business  en 
gagement?  " 

You  couldn't  help  seem'  how  she  had  it 
framed  up, — the  whole  Corrugated  Trust  and 
half  of  Wall  Street  holdin'  its  breath  while 
hubby,  J.  Hemmingway  Piddie,  Esq.,  worked 
his  giant  intellect  for  the  good  of  the  country. 

"  That's  it,"  says  I.  "I  couldn't  say  pos'- 
tive  that  he'd  be  as  late  as  four  o'clock; 
but " 

"  Oh!  then  we'll  not  wait,"  says  she. 
"  Come,  Hemmingway,  we  must  go  home." 

"  Don't  I  det  my  new  s'oes?  "  says  Hemmy. 

There  was  a  proposition  for  you!  The  kid 
was  runnin'  true  to  form  and  stickin'  to  the 
main  line.  No  side  issues  for  him!  Pop  might 
be  a  big  man,  and  all  that;  but  his  size  didn't 
cut  much  ice  alongside  of  the  new-shoes  pros- 


KEEPING  TABS  ON  PIDDIE        107 

pect.  Things  was  beginnin'  to  look  squally, 
and  Mrs.  Fiddle's  mouth  corners  was  saggin' 
some,  when  I  has  a  thought. 

"  Hold  on,"  says  I.  "  Maybe  he's  left  a 
note  or  something  for  you." 

See  what  it  is  to  have  a  little  wad  stowed 
away  in  the  southwest  corner  of  your  jeans! 
I  slips  through  into  the  main  office,  gets  one 
of  the  typewriter  girls  to  address  an  envelope 
to  Mrs.  Piddie,  jams  a  sawbuck  into  it,  and 
comes  out  smilin'. 

"  Maybe  this '11  do  as  well  as  Pop  himself," 
says  I.  "  Feels  like  it  had  long  green  in  it," 
and  the  last  I  heard  of  little  Hemmy  he  was 
tellin'  the  elevator  man  about  the  "  new  s'oes  " 
that  was  comin'  to  him. 

"  It's  a  fool  way  to  lend  out  coin,"  thinks  I; 
"  but  what's  the  diff  ?  That  kid's  got  his  hopes 
set  on  bein'  shod  to-day,  and  Piddie 's  bound  to 
make  good  sometime." 

Piddie  didn't  look  it,  though,  when  he  drifts 
in  about  one- thirty.  If  he'd  had  a  load  on  his 
mind  earlier  in  the  day,  he'd  got  somethin' 
more  now.  Just  sittin'  at  the  desk  doin'  nothin' 
made  the  dew  come  out  on  his  noble  brow  like 
it  was  the  middle  of  August.  He  was  too  much 
of  a  wreck  to  stand  any  joshin';  so  I  let  him 
alone,  not  even  tellin'  him  about  the  fam'ly 
visit. 

The  first  tiling  I  knows  he  comes  over  to  me, 


108  TOECHY 

his  jaw  set  firmer 'n  I  ever  see  it  shut  before, 
and  a  kind  of  shifty  look  in  his  eyes.  He  hands 
me  a  letter  and  a  package. 

"  Torchy,"  says  he,  "  take  these  down  to 
that  address  just  as  soon  as  you  can.  You've 
got  to  go  quick.  Understand?  " 

"  Fourth     speed,     advanced     spark,     that's 
me !  "  says  I,  grabbin'  my  hat  and  coat. . "  Free 
track  for  the  Piddie  special!     Honk,  honk!  ' 
and  I  jams  him  up  against  the  letterpress  as 
I  makes  a  rush  for  the  door. 

When  I  gets  into  the  subway  I  sizes  up  the 
stuff  I'm  carryin'.  Well  say,  it  ain't  often  I 
gets  real  curious;  but  this  was  one  of  them 
times.  I  started  in  by  rollin'  a  pencil  under 
the  envelope  flap  while  the  gum  was  moist.  Not 
that  I'd  made  up  my  mind  to  rubber;  but  just 
so's  I  could  if  I  took  the  notion.  And,  sure 
enough,  I  got  the  notion,  or  it  got  me. 

Chee !  I  near  slid  off  the  rattan  seat  when  I 
reads  that  note.  Guess  I  must  have  sat  there, 
starin'  bug-eyed  and  lookin'  batty,  from  14th 
to  Wall.  Do  you  know  what  that  mush-head  of 
a  Piddie  was  at?  He  was  givin'  an  order  to 
bolster  up  Blitzen  by  buyin'  up  to  a  hundred 
thousand  shares,  and  in  the  package  was  a 
bunch  of  gilt-edged  securities  to  cover  the 
margins. 

Now  wouldn't  that  jiggle  the  grapes  on  sis 
ter's  new  lid?  Piddie,  a  narrow-gauge,  dime- 


KEEPING  TABS  ON  PIDDIE        109 

pinchin'  ink-slinger,  doin'  the  bull  act  like  he 
was  a  sooty  plute  from  Pittsburg!  That's 
what  conies  of  swallowin'  the  get-rich-fast 
bug. 

Well,  when  I  gets  out  at  the  Street  I  didn't, 
have  any  programme  planned.  First  I  strolls 
down  to  the  number  on  the  letter  and  takes  a 
look  at  the  buildin'.  That  was  enough.  There 
was  some  good  names  on  the  hall  directory;  but 
most  of  'em  was  little,  two-room,  fly-by-night 
firms,  with  a  party  'phone  for  a  private  wire 
and  a  mail-order  list  bought  off 'm  patent  medi 
cine  concerns.  The  people  Piddie  was  doin' 
business  with  was  that  kind. 

Next  I  takes  a  walk  around  into  Broad-st., 
where  the  mounted  cops  keep  the  big-wind 
bunch  roped  in  so's  they  can't  break  loose  and 
pinch  the  doorknobs  off  the  Subtreasury.  The 
ear-muff  brigade  was  lettin'  themselves  out  in 
fine  style,  tradin'  in  Ground  Hog  bonds,  Ho- 
boken  gas,  Moonshine  preferred,  and  a  whole 
lot  of  other  ten-cent  shares,  as  earnest  as  if 
they  was  under  cover  and  biddin'  on  Standard 
Oil  firsts. 

"While  I  was  lookin'  'em  over,  wonderin'  what 
to  do  next,  I  spots  Abey  Winowski  on  the 
fringe  of  the  push.  And  say,  it  wa'n't  so  long 
ago  that  Abey  was  wearin'  sky-blue  pants  and 
a  Postal  shield,  trottin'  out  with  messages  from 
District  Ten.  But  here  he  is,  with  a  checked 


110  TOECHY 

ulster  and  a  five-dollar  hat,  writin'  figures  on  a 
pad. 

"  Hello,  Motzie!  "  says  I.  "  How  long  since 
they  lets  the  likes  of  you  inside  the  ropes?  " 

"  Hello,  Torchy!  "  says  he.  "  Got  any  or 
ders?  " 

"I'm  lined  with  'em,"  says  I.  "  What's 
good?  " 

"  Blitzen,"  says  he.  "  It's  on  the  seesaw; 
but '11  fetch  fifty." 

"  Ain't  it  a  wildcat?  "  says  I. 

"  Just  from  the  menagerie,"  says  he. 
"  Goin'  to  take  a  dollar  flyer?  " 

"  Guess  I'll  see  what  my  brokers  has  to  say 
first,"  says  I. 

With  that  I  goes  around  to  a  little  joint  I 
knows  of,  where  they  has  a  board  for  unlisted 
stocks,  and  I  sets  back  and  watches  the  curves 
Blitzen  was  makin'.  First  she'd  jump  four  or 
five  points,  and  then  she'd  settle  back  heavy. 
The  Curb  was  playin'  tag  with  it;  that  was  all, 
so  far  as  I  could  see.  Nice  lot  of  Hungry  Jakes 
to  feed  with  int'rest-bearin'  securities! 

About  fifteen  minutes  before  the  market 
closed  I  quit  and  moseyed  along  uptown,  just 
killin'  time  and  tryin'  to  figure  out  what  ought 
to  be  done.  Course,  I  didn't  have  any  idea  of 
playin'  private  detective  and  showin'  Piddie 
up  to  Mr.  Eobert, — that's  out  of  my  line, — but 
I  didn't  like  the  scheme  of  just  chuckin'  the 


KEEPING  TABS  ON  PIDDIE        111 

bonds  back  at  him  and  let  him  get  away  with 
any  bluff  about  my  interferin'  with  something 
I  didn't  understand  at  all.  Besides,  if  the  re 
turns  showed  that  he'd  have  won  on  the  deal, 
what  was  to  hinder  his  tryin'  the  same  trick 
again  next  time  he  got  the  chance?  That 
wouldn't  been  a  fair  shake  for  the  firm. 

Say,  I  worked  my  thinker  overtime  that  trip ; 
but  I  couldn't  dig  up  a  thing  that  was  worth 
savin'  from  the  scrap  basket,  and  when  I 
strolled  into  the  office  just  about  closin'  time  I 
wa'n't  any  nearer  to  knowin'  what  to  do  than 
when  I  started. 

Most  everyone  had  left  when  I  pushes 
through  the  gate  and  takes  a  peek  into  Pid- 
die's  office.  He  was  there.  And,  say,  for  a 
speakin'  likeness  of  a  dropped  egg  that's  hit 
the  floor  instead  of  the  toast,  he  was  it!  He's 
slumped  all  over  the  desk,  with  his  head  in  his 
hands,  and  his  hair  all  mussed  up,  and  his 
shoulders  lopped.  I  always  suspicioned  he  was 
built  out  with  pneumatic  pads,  and  blew  him 
self  up  in  the  mornin'  before  he  buttoned  on 
the  four-inch  collar  that  kept  his  chin  up;  but 
I  did'nt  guess  he  had  a  rubber  backbone.  It 
was  a  case  of  fush  with  Piddie.  He  was  all  in. 
What  I  could  see  of  his  face  had  about  as  much 
color  to  it  as  a  sheet  of  blottin'  paper. 

Layin'  on  the  fioor  was  a  map  of  the  whole 
disaster.  It  was  a  Wall  Street  extra,  with  a 


112  TOECHY 

searehead  story  of  how  Blitzen  had  kept  'em 
guessin'  all  day  and  then,  in  the  last  quarter  of 
an  hour  of  tradin',  had  gone  bumpin'  the  bumps 
from  twenty-eight  down  to  almost  nothin'  at 
all.  I  didn't  stop  to  read  the  whole  thing;  but 
I  read  enough  to  find  out  that  Blitzen  had  gone 
soarin'  on  a  false  alarm,  and  that  when  the 
facts  was  give  out  right  the  balloon  had  took 
fire.  And  there  was  Piddie,  still  fallin'! 

"  Hello,"  says  I.  "  You  look  like  a  boned 
ham  that's  in  need  of  the  acid  bath  and  saw 
dust  stuffin'.  What's  queered  you  so  sudden?  " 

He  jumps  and  tries  to  pull  himself  together 
when  he  first  hears  me;  but  after  he  finds  who 
it  is  he  goes  to  pieces  again  and  flops  back  in 
the  chair  groanin'. 

"Is  it  new  mown  hay  of  the  lungs,  or  too 
many  griddle  cakes  on  the  stomach?  "  says  I. 

But  he  only  gasps  and  groans  some  more. 
Maybe  I  should  of  felt  sorry  for  him;  but, 
knowin '  the  sort  of  sprung  kneed  near  crook  he 
was,  I  didn't.  He  was  scared  mostly,  and  he 
was  doin'  all  the  sympathizin'  for  himself  that 
was  needed.  All  of  a  sudden  he  braces  up  and 
looks  at  his  watch. 

"  Perhaps  you  didn't  get  there  in  time?  " 
says  he. 

* '  With  the  letter  and  package  ?  ' '  says  I. 
"  Watcher  take  me  for?  Think  I  got  mucilage 
on  my  shoes?  I  was  there  on  time,  all  right." 


KEEPING  TABS  ON  PIDDIE        113 

"  Oil,  inerey!  "  says  he.  "  Torchy,  I'm  a 
ruined  man." 

"  You  look  it,"  says  I;  "  but  cheer  up.  You 
never  was  much  account  anyway;  so  there's  no 
great  harm  done." 

Then  he  begins  to  blubber,  and  leak  brine, 
and  take  on  like  a  woman  with  a  sick  headache. 
"  It  wasn't  my  fault,"  says  he.  "I  was  led 
into  it.  Torchy,  tell  them  I  was  led  into  it! 
You'll  believe  that,  won't  you!  " 

11  Cert,"  says  I.  "  I'll  make  affidavit  I  seen 
'em  snap  the  ring  in  your  nose.  But  what's  it 
all  about?  " 

"  Oh,  it's  something  awful  that's  happened 
to  me,"  he  wails.  "  It's  too  terrible  to  talk 
about.  You'll  know  to-morrow.  I  sha'n't  be 
alive  then,  Torchy." 

"  Ain't  swallowed  a  buttonhook,  have  you?  " 
says  I. 

Next  he  begins  thro  win'  a  fit  about  what's 
goin'  to  become  of  the  missus  and  the  kid.  Say, 
I've  been  in  at  two  or  three  acts  like  this  be 
fore,  and  I  gen 'rally  notice  that  at  about  such  a 
stage  they  play  that  card,  the  wife  and  kid. 
Your  real  tough  citizen  don't,  nor  your  real 
gent, — they  shuts  their  mouths  and  takes 
what's  comin'  to  'em, — but  Mr.  Weakback  has 
a  sudden  rush  of  mem'ry  about  the  folks  at 
home,  and  squeals  like  a  pup  with  his  tail  shut 
in  the  door. 


114  TOBCHY 

"  Ah,  say,"  says  I,  "  cut  it  out!  You  ought 
to  move  up  to  Harlem  and  learn  to  pound  the 
pipes.  You're  a  healthy  plunger,  you  are, 
sneakin'  bonds  out  of  the  safe  to  stack  up 
against  a  crooked  game,  and  then  playin'  the 
baby  act  when  you  lose  out!  Come  now,  ain't 
that  the  awful  thing  that's  happened  to 
you!  " 

He  couldn't  have  opened  up  freer  if  he'd 
been  put  through  the  third  degree.  I  gets  the 
story  of  his  life  then,  with  a  handkerchief  ac- 
comp'niment, — all  about  the  house  he's  tryin' 
to  buy  through  the  buildin'  loan,  and  the  sec 
ond-hand  bubble  he  wants  to  splurge  on  'cause 
the  neighbors  have  got  'em,  and  how  he  was 
tipped  off  to  this  sure  thing  in  Blitzen  by  a 
party  that  had  always  been  a  friend  of  his  but 
couldn't  get  hold  of  the  stuff  to  turn  the  trick 
himself.  He  put  in  all  the  fine  points,  even  to 
the  way  he  came  to  have  a  chance  at  the  safe. 

"  If  I  could  only  put  them  back!  "  says  he, 
sighin'. 

"  What  then?  "  says  I.  "  Next  time  I  s'pose 
you'd  swipe  the  whole  series,  wouldn't  you!  " 

If  you  could  have  heard  him  tell  how  good 
he'd  be  you'd  think  practicin'  a  little  crooked 
work  now  and  then  was  the  only  sure  way  to 
learn  how  to  keep  straight. 

"  Piddie,"  says  I,  "  I  don't  want  to  hurt 
your  feelin's,  but  you  act  to  me  like  a  weak  sis- 


KEEPING  TABS  ON  PIDDIE        115 

ter.  If  I  was  to  do  what  the  case  calls  for, 
this  thing  ought  to  go  to  the  boss." 

"Please  don't,  Torchy!  Please  don't!" 
says  he,  scrabblin'  down  on  his  hands  and 
knees. 

"  Nix  on  that!  "  says  I.  "  This  is  no 
carpet-layin'  bee.  I'm  no  squealer,  anyway; 
besides,  I  had  a  little  interview  with  Mrs.  Pid- 
die  and  the  kid  this  noon,  and  after  seein'  them. 
I  can't  rub  it  in  like  you  deserve.  What  I've 
seen  and  heard  I'm  goin'  to  forget.  Now  sit 
up  straight  while  I  break  the  news  to  you  gen 
tle.  I  went  down  there  to-day,  just  as  you  told 
me." 

"  Yes,  I  know,"  he  groans,  squirmin'. 

"  But  I  didn't  like  the  looks  of  the  joint;  so 
I  didn't  dump  the  bonds.  There  they  are.  Now 
see  they  get  back  where  you  found  'em !  ' ' 

Talk  about  your  hallelujah  praise  meetin's! 
Piddie  was  havin'  one,  all  by  himself — when 
the  inside  door  opens  and  Mr.  Roberts  steps 
out  of  his  office. 

"  I'll  take  care  of  those  bonds,  Mr.  Piddie," 
says  he. 

1  Chee !  what  a  stunner !  Mr.  Robert  had  been, 
in  there  all  the  time,  writin'  private  letters, 
and  had  took  in  the  whole  business. 

Did  he  give  Piddie  the  fire  on  the  spot  ?  Nah ! 
Mr.  Robert  carries  around  a  frigid  portico; 
but  he's  got  a  warm  spot  inside.  He  says  he's 


116  TOECHY 

mighty  sorry  to  hear  how  near  Piddle 'd  come 
to  goin'  wrong;  but  he's  glad  it  turned  out  the 
Tjay  it  did,  and  if  Piddie'll  say  how  much  they 
rung  him  in  for  on  Blitzen  he'll  be  happy  to 
make  good  right  there. 

And  how  much  do  you  guess?  A  pair  of 
double  X's!  He'd  worried  himself  near  sick, 
worked  himself  up  desperate,  and  had  finished 
by  doin'  something  that  stood  to  get  him  put 
away  for  ten  or  fifteen  years — all  for  forty 
bucks ! 

"  Piddie,"  says  I,  "  for  a  tinhorn,  you're  a 
wonder !  But,  say,  when  you  get  home  to-night 
tell  that  kid  of  yours  I  want  to  see  them  new 
shoes  of  his  before  he  gets  the  toes  all  stubbed 
out." 


CHAPTER 

A   WHIRL   WITH   KAZEDKY 

CHEE!  Watcher  think!  I  ain't  read  an 
"  Old  Sleut'  "  for  more'n  a  week,  and  there's 
two  murder  myst'ries  runnin'  in  the  sportin' 
extras  that  I'm  way  behind  on.  You  wouldn't 
guess  it  in  a  month,  but  I'm  takin'  a  fall  out 
of  the  knowledge  game.  Mr.  Mallory  says  I'm 
part  in  the  sixt'  grade  and  part  in  the  eight'. 

'  *  I  believe  it, ' '  says  I ;  "  my  nut  feels  that 
way. ' ' 

Honest,  I'm  stowin'  away  so  much  that  I 
never  knew  before  that  I'm  thinkin'  of  wearin' 
a  leather  strap  around  my  head,  same's  these 
strong  boys  wears  'em  on  their  wrists. 

"Ah!  w'at's  the  use?  "  says  I.  "  Nobody's 
ever  goin'  to  ask  me  what's  four  per  cent,  of 
thoity  thousand  plunks,  an'  if  'I  had  that  much 
I  wouldn't  farm  it  out  for  less'n  six,  anyway. 
And  I  don't  see  where  this  De  Soto  comes  in. 
Sounds  like  he  might  have  played  first  base 
for  the  Beanies;  but  he's  been  dead  too  long 
for  that.  What  odds  does  it  make  if  I  don't 
know  the  capital  of  Nevada?  I  ain't  looki»' 
for  no  divorce,  am  I?  " 

117 


118  TORCHY 

But  there's  no  shakin'  Mallory  off. 
dug  up  a  lot  of  kid  school  books  for  me,  and 
I  got  'em  stowed  away  in  the  desk  here,  like 
this  was  P.  S.  46,  'stead  of  the  front  office  of 
the  Corrugated  Trust.  And  when  I  ain't  takin' 
cards  into  the  main  squeezes,  or  answerin'  fool 
questions  over  the  'phone,  or  chasin'  out  on 
errands  for  Piddie,  I'm  swallowin'  chunks  of 
information  about  the  times  when  G.  Wash, 
was  buildin'  forts  in  Harlem  and  makin'  good 
for  a  'continuous  in  front  of  the  Subtreasury. 

Course,  it's  a  clean  waste  of  time.  Sup 
pose  I  gets  the  run  next  week,  could  I  win  an 
other  head  office  boy  job  by  spielin'  off  a  mess 
of  guff  about  a  lot  of  dead  ones?  Nit,  never! 
But  Mallory 's  got  the  bug  that  it'll  all  come  in 
handy  to  me  sometime,  and  I'm  doin'  it  just  to 
keep  him  satisfied.  We  get  together  most  every 
night  in  his  room,  and  I  has  to  cough  up  what 
I've  got  next  to  durin'  the  day.  And  say,  when 
I've  been  soldierin',  and  try  to  run  in  a  stiff 
bluff  instead  of  the  real  goods,  he  looks  as 
disappointed  as  if  I'd  done  something  real  low 
down.  So  gen 'rally  I  hits  up  the  books  when 
there's  no  thin'  else  doin'. 

Mr.  Robert's  on.  He  comes  in  one  mornin' 
and  pipes  off  the  'rithmetic.  "  What's  this, 
Torchy!  "  says  he.  "  Studying?  " 

11  Yep,"  says  I.  "  When  I  went  through 
Columbia  College  there  wa'n't  anybody  there 


A  WHIRL  WITH  KAZEDKY        119 

but  the  janitor;  so  I'm  takin'  a  postprandial 
whirl  at  this  number  dope,  and  it's  fierce." 

"  Whose  idea?  "  says  he. 

"  Mr.  Mallory's,"  says  I.  "  But  I've  laid  it 
out  flat  to  him  that  I  draws  the  line  at  Greek. 
I'd  never  want  to  talk  like  them  23d-st.  flower 
peddlers,  not  in  a  thousand  years !  ' : 

Didn't  tell  you,  did  I,  about  Mallory's  doin' 
the  skyrocket  act?  After  Mr.  Robert  gets  next 
to  the  fact  that  Mallory's  a  two  seasons'  old 
football  hero  from  his  old  college  he  yanks  him 
out  of  that  twelve-dollar-a-week  film'  job  and 
makes  him  a  salaried  gent,  inside  of  two  days. 

"  Which  is  something  I  owe  chiefly  to  you, 
Torchy,"  says  Mallory. 

"  Honk,  honk!  "  says  I.  "  Them's  the  kind 
of  ideas  that  will  get  you  run  in  for  reckless 
thinkin'.  You  was  winnin'  all  that  when  you 
did  that  sprint  for  goal  your  friend  Dicky  was 
tellin'  about  the  other  day.  Now  all  you  got 
to  do  is  get  up  on  your  toes  and  make  one  or 
two  touchdowns  for  old  Corrugated." 

"  I  know,"  says  he;  "  but  I'm  afraid  that 
in  this  game  I'm  outclassed." 

Honest,  he  was  scared  stiff;  but  he  didn't  let 
anyone  but  me  see  it.  Even  a  little  thing  like 
goin'  down  to  Wall  Street  and  lookin'  up  some 
securities  gets  him  rattled.  He  hadn't  been 
gone  more'n  an'  hour  'fore  he  calls  me  up  on 
the  'phone  and  says  some  broker's  clerk 


120  TOECHY 

asked  him  if  our  concern  don't  want  to  bid  on 
P.  0.  privileges  at  seven-eighths.  "  What  are 
P.  0.  privileges'?  "  says  Mallory. 

' '  Oh,  tush !  ' '  says  I.  *  *  And  you  let  'em 
hand  you  such  a  burry  one?  P.  O.  privileges  is 
the  right  to  lick  stamps  at  the  gen'ral  post- 
office,  and  it's  a  gag  them  curb  shysters  has 
wore  to  a  frazzle.  You  go  back  and  tell  that 
fresh  paper-chewer  we're  only  buyin'  options 
on  July  snow  removals  preferred." 

That's  what  comes  of  foolin'  around  at  col 
lege.  Mallory  comes  back  lookin'  like  some  one 
had  sold  him  a  billboard  seat  to  a  free  window 
show. 

But  that  was  no  thin'  to  the  down-and-out 
slump  I  found  him  in  next  night,  when  I  goes 
around  for  my  writin'  lesson  and  so  on. 

"  Is  it  the  spino  comeandgetus,"  says  I,  "  or 
has  Miss  Tuttifrutti  sent  back  your  Christmas 
card?  " 

"  It's  worse  than  either,"  says  he,  with  his 
chin  on  the  top  button  of  his  vest.  "  I  guess 
I'm  what  you  would  call  a  false  alarm,  Torchy. 
I've  be«n  tried  out  and  haven't  made  good." 

"  G-'wan!  "  says  I.  "  Everyone  gets  a  lemon 
now  and  then.  Some  tries  to  swaller  it  whole, 
and  chokes  to  death;  others  mixes  'em  up  with 
eggs  and  things,  and  knocks  out  a  pie,  with 
meringue  on  top.  Draw  us  a  map  of  how  you 
fell  off  the  scaffold." 


A  WHIRL  WITH  KAZEDKY        121 

Well,  I  jollied  the  hard  luck  tale  out  of  him. 
It  was  a  case  of  sendin '  a  boy  with  a  pushcart 
to  bring  home  a  grand  piano.  The  Old  Man  had 
done  it.  He's  kind  of  sore  on  the  way  Mr. 
Robert  lugged  Mallory  in  by  the  hair,  'cause  I 
heard  him  growlin'  somethin'  about  makin'  a 
kindergarten  out  of  the  Corrugated;  so  he 
springs  this  on  him.  He  calls  for  Mallory  and 
tells  him  there's  a  Russian  gent  down  to  the 
Waldorf  that's  come  over  to  place  a  big  Gov- 
er'ment  contract. 

"  We've  got  to  have  a  slice  of  that,"  says 
he.  "  Just  you  run  down  and  get  it  for  us." 
Like  that,  offhand,  as  if  it  was  somethin'  you 
could  do  anytime  between  lunch  and  one-thirty. 

Near  as  I  could  make  out,  Mallory  goes  for 
it  in  his  polite,  standoff,  after-you  way,  and 
the  closest  he  gets  to  Russky  is  a  minute  with 
a  cocky  secretary  that  says  his  Excellency  is 
very  sorry,  but  he'll  be  too  busy  to  see  him 
this  trip — maybe  next  time,  about  1912,  hell 
have  an  hour  off. 

"  And  then  you  backs  up  the  alley?  "  says  I. 

"  There  was  nothing  else  for  me  to  do,"  says 
Mallory.  * '  He  went  off  without  giving  me  an 
other  chance." 

"  Say,"  says  I,  "if  I  had  all  your  parlor 
manners,  I'd  organize  an  English  holdin' 
comp'ny  for  'em,  so's  not  to  be  jacked  up  for 
bein'  a  monopoly.  Why  didn't  you  give  him 


122  TORCHY 

the  low  tackle  and  sit  on  his  head  until  he 
promised  to  behave?  "Was  that  the  only  try 
you  made?  ' 

"  No,  I  sent  up  my  card  twice  after  that," 
says  he,  "  and  it  came  back.  So  I've  flunked. 
I  think  I'd  better  go  down  in  the  morning  and 
resign." 

Now  wouldn't  that  rust  you? 

"  Then  here  goes  the  books,"  says  I, 
chuckin'  'em  into  the  corner.  "  If  doin'  the 
knowledge  stunt  leaves  you  with  a  backbone 
like  a  piece  of  boiled  spaghetti,  I'm  through." 

That  makes  Mallory  sit  up  as  if  I'd  jabbed 
him  with  a  pin.  "  Do  I  seem  that  way  to 
you?  "  says  he. 

"  You  don't  think  you're  givin'  any  weight- 
liftin'  exhibition,  do  you?  "  says  I. 

He  lets  that  trickle  through  for  a  minute  or 
so,  and  then  he  comes  back  to  life.  "  Torchy," 
says  he,  "  you're  right.  I'm  acting  like  a 
quitter.  But  I  don't  mean  to  let  go  just  yet. 
Hanged  if  I  don't  try  to  see  that  man  to-night, 
now,  as  quick  as  I  can  get  down  there!  He's 
got  to  see  me,  by  Jove!  ' 

"  There's  more  sense  to  that  than  anything 
else  you've  said  in  a  week,"  says  I.  "  Wish  I 
could  be  there  to  hold  your  hat." 

"  Why  not?  "  says  he.  "  Come  on.  I  may 
need  fresh  inspiration." 

"  Whatever    I   gives    you'll   be    fresh,    all 


A  WHIRL  WITH  KAZEDKY        123 

right,"  says  I;  "  but  if  I  was  you,  and  was 
goin'  to  butt  into  any  Fifth-ave.  hotel  along 
about  dinner-time,  I'd  wear  the  regalia.  Yours 
ain't  in  on  a  ticket,  is  it?  ' 

It  wa'n't.  Mallory  had  to  go  clear  to  the 
bottom  of  the  trunk  after  it;  but  when  he'd 
shook  out  the  wrinkles  and  got  himself  inside 
the  view  was  worth  while.  After  he's  blown 
up  his  op'ra  hat  and  got  out  his  stick  you 
couldn't  tell  him  from  a  three  times  winner. 

"  Chee !  "  says  I.  "  You've  got  Silent  Smith 
tied  to  a  post.  If  you  acts  like  you  look,  you 
don't  need  me." 

He  wouldn't  have  it  that  way,  though.  I'd  got 
to  go  along  and  be  ready  to  give  him  any  points 
I  thought  of.  We  goes  in  a  cab,  too,  in  over 
the  rubber  mats  to  the  carriage  door,  just  like 
we'd  come  to  hire  the  royal  suite. 

"  The  Baron  Kazedky,"  says  Mallory, 
shovin'  his  card  across  at  the  near  plute  behind 
the  desk. 

Then  the  cold  wave  begun  comin'  our  way. 
Mister  Baron  was  out.  Nobody  knew  where 
he'd  gone.  He  hadn't  left  any  word.  And  he 
didn't  receive  callers  after  four  P.M.,  anyway. 
Mallory  was  gettin'  his  breath  after  stoppin' 
them  body  blows,  when  I  pushes  in. 

"  Say,  Sir  Wally,"  says  I,  leanin'  over  to 
wards  the  clerk  and  speakin'  confidential, 
"  lemme  give  you  somethin'  from  the  inside. 


124  TORCHY 

If  Kazedky  misses  seein'  Mr.  Mallory  to-night, 
you'll  be  called  up  to-morrow  to  hear  some 
Russian  language  that'll  take  all  the  crimp  out 
of  that  Robert  Mantell  bang  of  yours.  Now 
ring  up  one  of  them  bench-warmers  and  show 
us  the  Baron!  " 

But,  say,  you  might's  well  try  bluffin'  your 
way  through  the  fire  lines  on  a  brass  trunk 
check,  "  You'll  find  the  manager's  office  two 
doors  to  the  left,  gentlemen,"  says  he. 

11  Much  obliged  for  nothin',"  says  I. 

Course,  there  wa'n't  any  use  registerin'  a 
kick.  Orders  is  orders,  and  we  was  on  the 
wrong  side  of  the  fence.  Mallory  and  I  takes 
a  turn  through  the  corridors  and  past  the  main 
dinin'-room,  where  they  keeps  an  orchestra 
playin'  so's  the  got-rich-quick  folks  won't  hear 
each  other  eat  their  soup. 

We  was  tryin'  to  think  up  a  new  move.  I  was 
for  goin'  out  somewhere  and  callin'  for  the 
Baron  over  the  'phone;  but  Mallory 's  got  his 
jaw  set  now  and  says  he  don't  mean  to  leave 
until  he  has  some  kind  of  satisfaction.  He's 
kind  of  slow  takin'  hold;  but  when  he  gets  his 
teeth  in  he's  a  stayer. 

We  knocks  around  half  an  hour,  and  nothin' 
happens.  Then,  just  as  we  was  pushin'  through 
the  mob  into  the  Palm  Room  I  runs  into  Whitey 
Buck.  You  know  about  Whitey,  don't  you? 
Well,  you've  seen  his  name  printed  across  the 


A  WHIRL  WITH  KAZEDKY        125 

top  of  the  sportin'  page  that  he  runs.  And 
say,  Whitey's  the  smooth  boy,  all  right!  Him 
and  me  used  to  do  some  great  old  joshin'  when 
I  was  on  the  Sunday  editor's  door. 

' '  Hello,  Whitey !  ' '  says  I.  * '  Who  you  been 
workin'  for  a  swell  feed  now?" 

"  That  you,  Torchy?  "  says  he.  "  Why,  I 
took  your  head  for  an  exit  light.  How's 
tricks!  " 

' '  On  the  blink, ' '  says  I.  *  *  We  're  up  against 
a  freeze  out,  Mr.  Mallory  and  me.  You  know 
Mallory,  don't  you?  " 

"  What,  Skid  Mallory?  "  says  he,  takin'  an 
other  look.  * '  What  a  pipe !  Why,  say,  old 
man,  I  want  you  the  worst  way.  Got  to  hash 
up  a  full-page  sympose  knockin'  reformed 
football,  and  if  you'll  take  off  a  thousand-word 
opinion  I'll  blow  you  to  anything  on  the  bill 
of  fare.  Come  on  in  here  to  a  table  while  we 
chew  it  over.  Torchy,  grab  a  gargon.  Sizzlin' 
sisters!  but  I'm  glad  to  root  you  out,  Skid!  " 

He  was  all  of  that;  but  it  didn't  mean  any 
thing  more'n  that  Whitey  sees  an  easy  column 
comin'  his  way. 

Mr.  Mallory  wa'n't  so  glad.  "  Sorry,"  says 
he,  "  but  whatever  football  reputation  I  ever 
had  I'm  trying  to  live  down." 

'  *  Yfhat !  ' '  says  Whitey.  * '  Trying  to  make 
folks  forget  the  nerviest  quarterback  that  ever 
pranced  down  the  turf  with  eleven  men  after 


126  TOECHY 

him?  Don't  you  do  it.  Besides,  you  can't. 
Why,  that  run  of  yours  through  the  Eeds  has 
been  immortalized  in  a  whole  library  of  kid 
story  books,  and  they're  still  grinding  'em 
out!  " 

Mallory  turns  the  color  of  the  candleshades 
and  shakes  his  head.  "  You  print  any  such 
rot  as  that  about  me,"  says  he,  "  and  I'll  come 
down  and  wreck  the  office.  I'm  out  of  all  that 
now,  and  into  something  that  has  opened  my 
eyes  to  what  sort  of  useless  individual  I  am. 
Behold,  Whitey,  one  of  the  unfit!  " 

Then  Whitey  wants  to  know  all  about  it. 

"  It's  nothing  much,"  says  Mallory,  "  only 
I've  been  sent  out  to  do  business  with  a  Eus- 
sian  Baron,  and  I'm  such  a  chump  I  enn't  even 
get  within  speaking  distance  of  him." 

"What  Baron!"  says  Whitey.  "Not 
Kazedky?  " 

"  That's  the  identical  one,"  says  Mallory. 
"  Don't  happen  to  know  him,  do  you?  " 

"  I  sure  do,"  says  Whitey.  "  Didn't  he  and 
I  have  a  heart  to  heart  session  when  that  sporty 
Eussian  Prince  was  over  here  and  got  himself 
pinched  at  a  prizefight?  Kazedky  was  secre 
tary  of  the  legation  then,  and  it  was  through 
me  he  got  the  story  muffled." 

"  Wish  you  could  find  out  where  he  is  now," 
says  Mallory. 

"  Don't  have  to,"  says  Whitey;  "  I  know. 


A  WHIBL  WITH  KAZEDKY        127 

He's  up  in  private  dining-room  No.  9.  Been 
captured  by  a  gang  of  Chamber  of  Commerce 
men,  who  are  feeding  him  ruddy  duck  and  ter 
rapin  and  ten-dollar  champagne.  He's  got  a 
lot  of  steel  contracts  up  his  sleeve,  you  know, 
and " 

"  Yes,  I  know,"  says  Mallory;  "  but  how 
can  I  get  to  see  him?  ' 

"  Who  are  you  with?  "  says  Whitey. 

"  Corrugated  Trust,"  says  Mallory. 

11  Wow!  "  says  Whitey,  them  skim-milk  eyes 
of  his  gettin'  big.  "  They  wouldn't  let  you 
within  a  mile  of  him  if  they  knew.  But  say, 
suppose  I  could  lug  him  outside,  would  I  get 
that  football  story?  " 

11  You  would,"  says  Mallory. 

"  By  to-morrow  noon?  "  says  he. 

"  Before  morning,  if  you'll  stay  at  the  office 
until  I  get  through  here,"  says  Mallory. 

"  Good!  "  says  Whitey.  "  Come  on!  I'll 
snake  him  out  of  there  if  I  have  to  drag  him 
by  the  collar.  But  he's  a  fussy  old  freak,  and 
I  don't  guarantee  he'll  stay  more  than  a 
minute. ' ' 

11  That's  enough,"  says  Mallory.  "  He  can 
talk  French,  I  suppose?  " 

"  What's  the  matter  with  English?  "  says 
Whitey.  "  Now  let's  see  what  kind  of  hot  air 
I'll  give  him." 

Whitey  didn't  say  what  it  was  he  thinks  up; 


128  TOBCHY 

but  he  was  grinnin'  all  over  his  face  when  he 
leaves  us  outside  of  No.  9  and  goes  in  where 
the  corks  was  poppin'.  It  must  have  been  a 
happy  thought,  though;  for  it  wa'n't  long  be 
fore  he  comes  out,  to  win'  a  dried-up  little  old 
runt  with  a  full  set  of  face  lambrequins  and  a 
gold  dog  license  hung  round  his  neck  from  a 
red  ribbon.  He  had  his  napkin  in  one  hand 
and  half  a  dinner  roll  in  the  other;  so  it  didn't 
look  like  he  meant  to  make  any  long  stop.  He 
was  actin'  kind  of  dazed,  too,  like  he  hadn't 
got  somethin'  clear  in  his  mind,  and  he  hung 
back  as  if  he  was  expectin'  some  one  to  hand 
out  a  bomb.  But  Whitey  rushes  him  right  up 
to  Mallory. 

"  Here's  the  chap,  Baron!  "  says  he.  "I 
couldn't  let  you  go  back  to  Eussia  without 
shaking  hands  with  the  greatest  quarterback 
America  ever  produced.  Mr.  Mallory,  Baron 
Kazedky, ' '  and  then  he  winks  at  Mallory,  much 
as  to  say,  "  Now  jump  in!  " 

And  say,  Mallory  was  Johnny  on  the  spot. 
He  grabs  Kazedky 's  flipper  like  it  was  a  life 
preserver. 

"  I — I — really,  gentlemen,  there's  some  mis 
take,"  says  the  Baron,  "  A  quarter  what,  did 
you  say?  " 

"  Oh,"  says  Mallory,  "  that's  some  of  Mr. 
Buck's  tomfoolery — football  term,  you  know." 

"  But  I  am  not  interested  in  football,"  says 


A  WHIEL  WITH  KAZEDKY        129 

the  Baron,  tryin'  to  back  towards  the  door, 
"  not  in  the  least." 

"  Me  either,"  says  Mallory,  gettin'  a  new 
grip  on  him.  "  What  I  want  to  talk  to  you 
about  is  steel.  Now,  I  represent  the  Corru 
gated  Trust,  and  we " 

Well  say,  the  old  man  himself  couldn't  have 
reeled  it  off  better 'n  Mallory.  Why,  he  had 
it  as  letter  perfect  as  a  panhandler  does  his 
tale  about  bein'  in  the  hospital  six  weeks  and 
havin'  four  hungry  kids  at  home.  I  only  hears 
the  start  of  it ;  for  as  soon  as  he  got  well  under 
way  Mallory  starts  for  the  other  end  of  the 
corridor,  skatin'  the  little  old  Baron  along  with 
him  like  he  was  a  Third-ave.  clothing  store 
dummy  that  was  bein'  hauled  in  at  closin'-up 
time. 

Whitey  didn't  even  wait  for  the  overture. 
The  minute  he  hands  Kazedky  over  he  fades 
towards  the  elevator.  There's  nothin'  for  me 
to  do  but  wait ;  so  I  picks  out  a  red  velvet  chair 
and  camps  down  on  it  to  watch  the  promenade. 
That's  what  it  was,  too;  for  Mallory  acts  like 
he'd  forgot  everything  he  ever  knew  except 
that  he's  got  to  talk  steel  into  the  Baron.  I 
guess  it  was  steel  he  was  talkin'!  Every  time 
he  passes  me  I  hear  him  ringin'  in  Corrugated, 
and  drop  forged,  and  a  lot  of  things  like 
that, 

Mallory  has  a  right-arm  hook  on  Kazedky 


130  TOECHY 

and  is  makin'  motions  with  his  left  hand. 
Bern'  so  tall,  he  has  to  lean  over  to  pump  his 
speech  into  the  old  fellow's  ear;  but  every  now 
and  then  he  gets  excited  and,  'stead  of  bendin' 
himself,  he  lifts  the  Baron  clear  off  his  feet. 

About  the  third  lap  some  of  the  gents  from 
the  private  dinin'-room  pokes  their  heads  out 
to  see  what's  happened  to  the  guest  of  the 
evenin '.  They  saw,  all  right !  They  must  have 
been  suspicious,  too;  for  they  were  lookin' 
anxious,  and  begun  signaling  him  to  break 
away. 

The  Baron  didn't  have  no  time  for  watchin' 
signals  just  then.  He  was  busy  tryin'  to  keep 
his  feet  on  the  floor.  First  I  knew  there  was  a 
whole  gang  at  the  door  watchin'  'em,  and  they 
was  talkin'  over  makin'  a  rush  for  the  Baron 
and  rescuin'  him,  I  guess,  when  Mallory  leans 
him  up  against  the  wall,  hauls  out  a  pad  and  a 
fountain  pen,  and  hands  the  things  to  Kazedky. 
The  Baron  drapes  his  napkin  over  one  arm, 
stuffs  the  piece  of  roll  into  his  mouth,  and  scrib 
bles  off  somethin'. 

When  he's  done  that  Mallory  pockets  the 
pad,  leads  the  Baron  back  to  his  friends,  shakes 
hands  with  him,  motions  to  me,  and  pikes  for 
the  elevator.  The  last  glimpse  I  has  of  Ka 
zedky,  he's  bein'  pulled  into  the  private  dinin'- 
room,  with  that  half  a  roll  stickin'  out  of  his 
face  like  a  bung  in  a  beer  keg. 


131 

"  Well,  Torchy,"  says  Mallory  to  me,  as  the 
car  starts  down,  "  I  got  it!  " 

11  Got  what?  "  says  I. 

' '  Why,  the  contract, ' '  says  he. 

"  Chee!  "  says  I.  "  Is  that  all?  I  thought 
you  was  pullin'  one  of  his  back  teeth." 


CHAPTER  IX 

DOWN"   THE   BUMPS   WITH   CLIFFY 

SAY,  if  you  read  in  the  papers  to-morrow 
about  how  the  Chicago  Limited  was  run  on  a 
siding  and  a  riot  call  wired  back  to  the  nearest 
Chief  of  Police,  you  needn't  do  any  guessin'  as 
to  what's  happened.  It'll  be  a  cinch  that  Clif 
ford's  gettin'  in  his  fine  work;  for  the  last  I  saw 
of  him  he  was  headed  West,  and  where  he  is 
there's  trouble. 

But  you  mustn't  tear  off  the  notion  that  Clif 
ford's  a  Mr.  Lush,  that  goes  and  gets  himself 
all  lit  up  like  a  birthday  cake  and  then  begins  to 
mix  it.  That  ain't  his  line.  He's  one  of  the 
camel  brand.  The  nearest  he  ever  gets  to  red 
liquor  is  when  he  takes  bottled  grape  juice  for 
a  spring  tonic;  but  for  all  that  he  can  keep 
the  cops  busier 'n  any  thirsty  man  I  ever  saw. 

First  glimpse  I  gets  of  him  was  when  I  looks 
up  from  the  desk  and  sees  him  tryin'  to  find 
a  break  in  the  brass  rail.  And  say,  there  wa'n't 
any  doubt  about  his  havin'  come  in  from  beyond 
where  they  make  up  the  milk  trains.  Not  that 
he  wears  any  R.  Glue  costume.  From  the  nose 
pinchers,  white  tie,  and  black  cutaway  I  might 

182 


have  sized  him  up  as  a  cross  between  a  travelin' 
corn  doctor  and  a  returned  missionary ;  but  the 
ear  muffs  and  the  umbrella  and  the  black  felt 
lid  with  the  four-inch  brim  put  him  in  the  tourist 
class.  He  was  one  of  your  skimpy,  loose-jointed 
parties,  with  a  turkey  neck  that  had  a  lump  in 
front  and  wa'n't  on  good  terms  with  the  back  of 
his  coat  collar.  Two  of  his  front  teeth  was  set 
on  a  bias,  givin'  him  one  of  these  squirrel 
mouths  that  keeps  you  thinkin'  he's  just  goin' 
to  bite  into  an  apple. 

I  watched  him  a  minute  or  so  without  sayin' 
anything,  while  he  was  pawin'  around  for  the 
gate  sort  of  absent  minded,  and  when  I  thinks 
it's  about  time  to  wake  him  up  I  sings  out: 

"  Say,  Profess,  you're  on  the  right  side  of  the 
fence  now;  let  it  go  at  that." 

"  Ah — er — I  beg  pardon,"  says  he. 
Well,"  says  I,  "  that's  a  good  start." 
I — er — I  beg "  says  he. 

"  You've  covered  that  ground,"  says  I. 
"  Take  a  new  lead." 

That  seems  to  rattle  him  more'n  ever.  He 
hangs  his  umbrella  over  one  arm,  peels  off  a 
brown  woolen  mitt,  and  fishes  a  card  out  of  his 
inside  pocket.  "  This  is  the — ah — Corrugated 
Trust  Building,  is  it  not  I  ' '  says  he. 

II  It  is,  yes,"  says  I;  "  but  the  place  where 
you  cash  in  your  scalper's  book  ticket  is  down 
on  the  third  floor." 


. . 

4  t 


134  TOECHY 

"  Oh!  "  says  he.  "  Thank  you  very  much," 
and  he  starts  to  trot  out.  He  has  his  hand  on 
the  knob,  when  a  new  thought  comes  to  him. 
He  tiptoes  back  to  the  gate,  pries  off  one  of 
the  ear  muffs,  and  leans  over  real  confiden 
tial.  "  I  didn't  quite  understand,"  says  he. 
11  Did  you  say  Cousin  Eobert 's  was  the  third 
door?  " 

11  Chee !  "  says  I.  "  Willie,  take  off  the  other 
one,  so  you  can  get  a  good  healthy  circulation 
through  the  belfry." 

The  words  seemed  to  daze  him  some;  but  he 
tumbled  to  my  motions  and  unstoppered  his 
south  ear. 

"  Now,"  says  I,  "  what's  this  about  your 
Cousin  Bob?  Where 'd  you  lose  him?  " 

Watcher  think,  though?  I  gets  it  out  of  him 
that  he's  come  all  the  way  from  Bubble  Creek, 
Michigan,  and  is  lookin'  for  Mr.  Eobert  Ellins. 
With  that  I  lets  him  through,  plants  him  in  a 
chair,  and  goes  in  to  the  boss. 

"  Say,"  says  I  to  Mr.  Eobert,  "  there's  a  guy 
outside  that's  just  floated  in  from  the  breakfast 
food  belt  and  is  callin'  for  Cousin  Eobert. 
Here's  his  card." 

' '  Why,  that  must  be  Clifford !  ' '  says  he. 

"  Then  it's  true,  is  it,  the  cousin  business?" 
says  I. 

"  Certainly  it  is,  Torchy,"  says  he.    ' 
not?  " 


V 

DOWN  THE  BUMPS  WITH  CLIFFY  135 

"  Oh,  nothin',"  says  I.  "I  wouldn't  have 
thought  it,  though." 

11  It  isn't  at  all  necessary,"  says  Mr.  Robert. 
"  Bring  him  in  at  once." 

"  I  guess  I  can  spare  him,"  says  I.  Then  I 
goes  back  and  taps  Cousin  Clifford  on  the  shoul 
der.  "  Cliffy,"  says  I,  "  you're  subpcened. 
Push  through  two  doors  and  then  make  your 
self  right  to  home." 

Course  anyone's  liable  to  have  a  freak  cousin 
or  so  knockin'  round  in  the  background,  and  I 
s'pose  it  was  a  star  play  of  Mr.  Eobert 's,  givin' 
the  glad  hand  to  this  one;  but  if  I'd  found  Clif 
ford  hangin'  on  my  fam'ly  tree  I'd  have  felt  like 
gettin'  out  the  prunin'  saw. 

Maybe  Mr.  Robert  was  a  little  miffy  because 
I  hadn't  been  a  mind  reader  and  played  Clifford 
for  a  favorite  from  the  start.  Anyway,  he 
jumps  right  in  to  feature  him,  lugs  him  off  to 
the  club  for  lunch,  and  does  the  honors  joyous, 
just  as  though  this  was  something  he'd  been 
lookin'  forward  to  for  months. 

I  was  beginnin'  to  think  I'd  made  a  wrong 
guess  on  Clifford,  and  the  awful  thought  that 
maybe  for  once  I'd  talked  too  gay  was  just 
tricklin'  through  my  thatch,  when  we  gets  our 
first  bulletin.  Cliffy  was  due  back  to  the  office 
about  four- thirty,  havin'  gone  off  by  his  lone 
some  after  lunch;  but  at  a  quarter  of  five  he 
don't  show  up.  It  was  near  closin'  time  when 


136  TORCHY 

Mr.  Robert  gets  a  'phone  call,  and  by  the  wor 
ried  look  I  knew  something  was  up. 

"  Yes,"  says  he,  "  this  is  Robert  Ellins.  Yes, 
I  know  such  a  person.  That's  right — Clifford. 
He's  my  cousin.  No,  is  that  so?  Why,  there 
must  be  some  mistake.  Oh,  there  must  be !  I  '11 
come  up  and  explain.  Yes,  I'll  sign  the  bail 
bond." 

He  didn't  have  a  word  to  say  when  he  turns 
around  and  catches  me  grinnin';  but  grabs  his 
hat  and  coat  and  pikes  for  the  green  lights. 

There  wa'n't  any  call  for  me  to  do  any  rub- 
berin'  next  day,  or  ask  any  questions.  It  was 
all  in  the  mornin'  papers :  how  a  batty  gent  who 
looked  like  a  disguised  second  story  worker  had 
collected  a  crowd  and  blocked  traffic  on  Fifth 
Avenue  by  standin'  on  the  curb  in  front  of  one 
of  the  Vanderbilt  houses  and  drawin'  plans  of 
it  on  a  pad. 

Course,  he  got  run  in  as  a  suspect,  and  I  guess 
Mr.  Robert  had  his  troubles  showin'  the  desk 
sergeant  that  Clifford  wa'n't  a  Western  crook 
who  was  layin'  pipes  for  a  little  jimmy  work. 
Cliffy 's  architect  tale  wouldn't  have  got  him  off 
in  a  month,  and  if  it  hadn't  been  that  Mr.  Robert 
taps  the  front  of  his  head  they'd  had  Clifford 
down  to  Mulberry-st.  and  put  his  thumb  print 
in  the  collection. 

He  was  givin'  it  to  'em  straight,  though. 
Architectin'  was  what  Cliffy  was  aimin'  at. 


DOWN  THE  BUMPS  WITH  CLIFFY  137 

He'd  been  studying  that  sort  of  thing  out  in 
Michigan,  and  now  he  was  makin'  a  tour  to  see 
how  it  was  done  in  other  places,  meanin'  to 
polish  off  with  a  few  months  abroad.  Then, 
after  he'd  got  himself  well  soaked  in  ideas,  may 
be  he'd  go  back  to  Bubble  Creek,  rent  an  office 
over  the  bank,  and  begin  drawin'  front  eleva 
tions  of  iron  foundries  and  double  tenements. 

That's  what  comes  of  havin'  rich  aunts  and 
uncles  in  the  fam'ly,  and  duckin'  real  work 
while  you  wait  for  notice  from  the  Surrogate 
to  come  on  and  take  your  share.  It  wa'n't  a 
case  of  hustle  with  Clifford.  I  suspicioned  that 
his  bein'  an  architect  was  more  or  less  of  a  fad; 
but  he  was  makin'  the  most  of  it,  there  was  no 
discountin'  that.  He'd  laid  out  a  week  to  put 
in  seein'  how  New  York  was  built,  high  spots 
and  low,  and  he  went  at  it  like  he  was  workin' 
by  the  piece. 

Now,  say,  there  ain't  no  special  harm  in  goin' 
around  town  gawpin'  at  lib'ries  and  office 
buildin's  and  churches.  'Most  anyone  could 
have  done  it  without  bumpin'  into  trouble;  but 
not  Cliffy.  It  was  wonderful  how  he  dug  up 
ructions — and  him  the  mildest  lookin'  four-eyed 
gent  ever  let  loose.  And  green !  Say,  what  sort 
of  a  flag  station  is  Bubble  Creek,  anyway? 

Askin'  fool  questions  was  Cliff y's  specialty. 
You  see,  he'd  made  out  a  list  of  buildin's  he 
thought  he  wanted  to  take  a  look  at;  but  he 


138  TOECHY 

hadn't  stopped  to  put  down  the  street  numbers 
or  anything.  And  when  he  wants  information 
does  he  hunt  up  a  directory  or  a  cop  ?  Oh,  no ! 
He  holds  up  anyone  that's  handy,  from  a  white 
wings  dodgin'  trucks  in  the  middle  of  Madison 
Square,  to  a  Wall  Street  broker  rushin'  from 
'Change  out  to  a  directors'  meetin'.  He  seems 
to  think  anybody  he  meets  knows  all  about  New 
York,  and  has  time  to  take  him  by  the  hand  and 
lead  him  right  where  he  wants  to  go,  whether 
it's  the  new  Custom  House  down  town,  or 
Grant's  Tomb  up  on  the  drive.  Throw  downs 
don't  discourage  him  any,  either.  Two  minutes 
after  he's  been  told  to  go  chase  himself  he'll  butt 
right  in  somewhere  else  and  call  for  directions. 

The  worst  of  it  was  that  he  couldn  't  remember 
what  he  was  told  for  more'n  three  minutes  on  a 
stretch.  We  found  out  these  little  tricks  of  Clif 
ford's  after  he'd  been  makin'  the  office  his  head 
quarters  for  a  couple  of  days. 

First  mornin'  we  started  him  out  early  for 
the  Battery,  to  size  up  the  Bowling  Green 
Buildin'  and  the  Aquarium.  About  noon  he 
limps  in  with  his  hat  all  dirt  and  ashes  up  and 
down  his  back.  From  the  description  he  gives 
we  figure  out  that  he's  been  somewhere  up  on 
Washington  Heights  and  has  got  into  an  argu 
ment  with  a  janitor  that  didn't  like  being  rung 
up  from  the  basement  and  asked  how  far  it  was 
to  Whitehall-st. 


DOWN  THE  BUMPS  WITH  CLIFFY  139 

Well,  we  fixes  him  up,  writes  out  all  the  par- 
tic 'lars  of  his  route  on  a  card,  and  gives  him 
a  fresh  send-off.  It  wa'n't  more'n  half  an  hour 
afterwards  that  I  was  out  on  an  errand,  and 
as  I  cut  through  22d-st.  back  of  the  Flatiron 
I  sees  a  crowd.  Course,  I  pushes  in  to  find  out 
what  was  holdin'  up  all  the  carriages  and  bub 
bles  that  has  to  switch  through  there  goin' 
north.  Somehow  I  had  a  feelin'  that  it  might 
be  Clifford.  And  it  was! 

He  was  in  the  middle  of  the  ring,  hoppin* 
around  lively  and  wavin'  that  umbrella  of  his 
like  a  sword.  The  other  party  was  the  pilot 
of  a  hansom  cab  that  had  climbed  down  off  his 
perch  and  was  layin'  on  with  his  whip. 

I  hated  to  disturb  that  muss;  for  I  had  an 
idea  Cliffy  was  gettin'  about  what  was  comin' 
to  him,  and  the  crowd  was  enjoyin'  it  to  the 
limit.  But  I  see  a  couple  of  traffic  cops  comin' 
over  from  Broadway;  so  I  breaks  through, 
grabs  Clifford  by  the  arm,  and  chases  him  down 
the  avenue,  breathin'  some  hard  but  not  much 
hurt. 

"  Chee!  "  says  I,  "  but  you're  a  wonder! 
Was  you  tryin'  to  buy  an  eight-mile  cab  ride 
for  a  quarter?  " 

'  *  Why,  no, ' '  says  he.  "I  merely  stopped  the 
man  to  ask  him  where  the  nearest  subway  sta 
tion  was,  and  before  I  knew  it  he  became  angry. 
I'm  sure  I  didn't  know " 


140  TOBCHY 

"  That's  the  trouble  with  yon,  Cliffy,"  says 
I,  "  and  if  you  don't  get  over  it  you'll  be  hurt 
bad.  Where's  that  card  we  made  out  for  you?  " 

11  I — I  must  have  lost  that,"  says  he. 

"  What  you  need  is  a  guide  and  an  accident 
policy,"  says  I.  "  Better  let  me  tow  you  back 
to  the  office,  and  you  can  talk  it  over  with  Mr. 
Robert." 

He  was  willin'.  He'd  had  enough  for  one  day, 
anyhow. 

By  mornin'  Mr.  Robert  has  lost  some  of  his 
joy  over  Cousin  Clifford's  visit.  Come  to  find 
out,  he'd  never  seen  him  before,  and  hadn't 
heard  much  about  him,  either.  * '  Torchy, ' '  says 
he,  ' '  I  shall  be  rather  busy  to-day ;  so  I  am  go 
ing  to  put  Cousin  Clifford  in  your  care." 

"  Ah,  say!  "  says  I.  "  Hand  me  an  easier 
one.  I  couldn't  keep  him  straight  less'n  I  had 
him  on  a  rope  and  led  him  around." 

' '  Well,  do  that,  then, ' '  says  he, ' '  anyway  you 
choose.  You  may  take  the  day  off,  show  him 
the  buildings  he  wants  to  see,  keep  him  out  of 
trouble,  and  don't  leave  him  until  you  have  him 
safe  inside  my  house  to-night.  I'll  make  it  right 
with  you." 

"  Seein'  it's  you,"  says  I,  "  I'll  give  it  a 
whirl.  But  if  Clifford  wants  to  travel  around 
town  with  me  he's  got  to  shake  the  ear  pads." 

Mr.  Robert  says  he'll  give  him  his  instruc 
tions,  and  all  that;  but  when  it  came  to  springin' 


the  programme  on  Clifford  he  runs  on  a  snag. 
Somewhere  back  of  them  squirrel  teeth  and 
under  the  soft  hat  there  was  a  streak  of  mule. 
Cliffy  balks  at  the  whole  business.  He 's  a  whole 
lot  obliged,  but  he  really  don't  care  for  coin- 
p'ny.  Goin'  around  alone  and  not  havin'  his 
thoughts  sidetracked  by  some  one  taggin'  along 
is  what  he  likes  better 'n  anything  else.  He's 
always  done  it  in  Bubble  Creek  and  never  got 
into  any  trouble  before — that  is,  none  to  speak 
of.  But  he'll  promise  to  cut  out  janitors  and 
cab  drivers. 

As  for  the  ear  muffs,  he  couldn't  think  of 
partin'  with  them.  For  years  he's  been  puttin' 
them  on  the  first  of  December  and  wearin'  'em 
until  the  last  of  March,  and  he'd  feel  lost  with 
out  'em,  just  the  same  as  he  would  without  the 
umbrella.  Yes,  he  knew  it  wa'n't  common;  but 
that  didn't  bother  him  at  all. 

Eight  there  I  gets  a  new  line  on  Clifford. 
He's  one  of  these  guys  that  throws  a  bluff  at 
bein'  modest;  but  when  you  scratch  him  deep 
you  gets  next  to  the  fact  that  he's  dead  sure 
he's  a  genius  and  is  anxious  to  prove  it  by  the 
way  he  wears  his  clothes.  There's  a  lot  of  that 
kind  that  shows  themselves  off  every  night  at 
the  fifty-cent  table  d'hote  places;  but  I  never 
knew  any  of  'em  ever  came  in  from  so  far  west 
as  Bubble  Creek. 

Mr.    Eobert    wa'n't    on,    though.     He    still 


142  TOBCHY 

freezes  to  the  notion  that  Cousin  Clifford's  just 
a  well-meanin',  corn- fed  innocent;  so  before  he 
turns  him  loose  again  he  gives  him  a  lot  of  good 
advice  about  not  gettin'  tangled  up  with  stran 
gers.  Cliffy  smiles  kind  of  condescendin'  arid 
tells  Mr.  Robert  he  needn't  worry  a  bit. 

With  that  off  he  goes;  but  every  time  the 
telephone  rings  that  forenoon  me  and  Mr.  Rob 
ert  gets  nervous.  We  don't  hear  a  word  from 
him,  though,  and  by  three  o'clock  we're  hopin5 
for  the  best. 

Then  Aunt  Julie  shows  up.  She's  a  large, 
elegant  old  girl,  all  got  up  in  Persian  lamb 
and  a  fur  hat  with  seven  kinds  of  sealin'  wax 
fruit  on  it.  She's  just  in  from  Palm  Beach,  and 
she's  heard  that  Brother  Henry's  boy  is  here  on 
a  visit. 

"  He  was  such  a  cute  little  dear  when  he  was 
a  baby!  "  says.  she. 

"  He's  changed,"  says  Mr.  Robert. 

"  Of  course,"  says  Aunt  Julie.  "  I  do  want 
to  see  if  he's  grown  up  to  look  like  Henry,  as  I 
said  he  would,  or  like  his  mother.  Where  is  he 
now,  Robert!  " 

' '  Heaven  only  knows !  ' '  says  he.  ' '  It  would 
suit  me  best  if  he  was  on  his  way  back  to  Michi 
gan.  ' ' 

"  Why,  Robert!  "  says  Aunt  Julie.  "  And 
Clifford  the  only  cousin  you  have  in  the 
world!  " 


DOWN  THE  BUMPS  WITH  CLIFFY  143 

' '  One  is  quite  enough, ' '  says  he. 

That  gives  her  another  jolt,  and  she  starts  to 
lay  out  Mr.  Robert  good,  for  givin'  the  frosty 
paw  to  a  relation  that  had  come  so  far  to  see 
him.  ' '  I  shall  stay  right  here, ' '  says  she,  * '  un 
til  that  poor,  neglected  young  man  returns,  and 
then  I  shall  try  to  make  up  for  your  heartless 
treatment. ' ' 

Aunt  Julie  didn't  have  a  long  wait.  She 
hadn't  more'n  got  herself  settled,  when  the 
elevator  stops  at  our  floor  and  there  breaks 
loose  all  kinds  of  a  riot  in  the  hall.  There  was  a 
great  jabberin'  and  foot  scufflin',  and  I  could 
hear  Dennis,  that  juggles  the  lever,  forkin'  out 
the  assault  'n'  batt'ry  language  in  a  brogue  that 
sounded  like  rippin'  a  sheet. 

"  What's  up  now?  "  says  Mr.  Robert,  pokin' 
his  head  out. 

"  Two  to  one  that's  Clifford!  "  says  I. 

There  wa'n't  any  time  to  get  a  bet  down, 
though;  for  just  then  the  door  slams  open  and 
we  gets  a  view  of  things.  Oh,  it  was  Cliffy,  all 
right!  He  was  comin'  in  backwards,  tryin'  to 
wave  off  the  gang  that  was  follerin'  him. 

11  Go  away!  "  says  he,  pushin'  at  the  nearest 
of  'em.  "  Please  go  away!  " 

"  Ah,  it's  you  should  be  goin'  away,  ye  shark- 
faced  baboon,  ye!  "  says  Dennis,  hoppin'  up 
and  down  in  the  door  of  the  car.  "  You  an'  yer 
Polack  friends  may  walk  down,  or  jump  out  the 


144  TORCHY 

winder;  but  diwle  a  ride  do  yez  get  in  this 
illyvator  again.  Do  ye  mind  that,  now?  " 

You  couldn't  blame  him;  for  the  bunch 
wa'n't  fit  for  the  ash  hoist.  They  were  Zinskis, 
about  twenty  of  'em,  countin'  women  and  kids. 
You  didn't  have  to  look  at  the  tin  trunks  and 
roped  bundles  to  know  that  they'd  just  finished 
ten  days  in  the  steerage.  You  could  tell  that 
by  the  bouquet.  They  didn't  carry  their  per 
fume  with  'em.  It  went  on  ahead,  and  they 
follered,  backin'  Cliffy  clear  in  until  he  fetched 
up  against  the  gate,  and  then  jammin'  in 
around  him  close.  Chee !  but  they  was  a  punky 
lot!  They  had  jack  lantern  faces  and  garlic 
breaths,  and  they  looked  to  know  about  as  much 
as  so  many  cigar  store  Injuns. 

11  Did  you  have  your  pick,  Cliffy,"  says  I, 
"  or  was  this  a  job  lot  you  got  cheap?  ' 

"  Clifford,"  says  Mr.  Robert,  "  what  in  thun 
der  is  the  meaning  of  this  performance  of 
yours?  " 

But  Clifford  just  keeps  on  tryin'  to  work  his 
elbows  clear  and  looks  dazed.  "  I  don't  know," 
says  Cliffy,  "  truly  I  don't,  Cousin  Robert. 
They've  been  following  me  for  an  hour,  and  I've 
had  an  awful  time." 

"  Maybe  you've  been  makin'  a  noise  like  a 
Wienerwurst,"  says  I. 

About  that  time  Aunt  Julie  comes  paddin'  out. 
"  Did  I  hear  some  one  say  Clifford?  "  says  she. 


"  You  did,"  says  Mr.  Eobert.  "  There  he  is, 
the  one  with  the  ear  muffs.  I  haven't  found  out 
who  the  others  are  yet." 

"  Phe-e-e-ew!  "  says  she,  takin'  one  sniff,  and 
with  that  she  grabs  out  her  scent  bottle  and  runs 
back,  slammin'  the  door  behind  her. 

"  Cliffy,"  says  I,  "  you  don't  seem  to  be  mak- 
in'  much  of  a  hit  with  your  Ellis  Island  bunch." 

' '  What  I  want  to  know, ' '  says  Mr.  Eobert, 
"  is  what  this  is  all  about!  " 

But  Clifford  didn't  have  the  key.  All  he  knew 
was  that  when  he  started  to  leave  the  subway 
train  they  had  tagged  after,  and  that  since  then 
he  hadn't  been  able  to  shake  'em.  Once  he'd 
jumped  on  a  Broadway  car;  but  they'd  all  piled 
in  too,  and  the  conductor  had  made  him  shell  out 
a  nickel  for  every  last  one.  Another  time 
he'd  dodged  through  one  of  them  revolvin'  doors 
into  a  hotel,  and  four  of  'em  had  got  wedged  in 
so  tight  it  took  half  a  dozen  porters  to  get  'em 
out ;  but  the  house  detective  had  spotted  Clifford 
for  the  head  of  the  procession  and  held  him  by 
the  collar  until  he  could  chuck  him  out  to  join 
his  friends. 

"  It  was  simply  awful!  "  says  he,  throwin'  up 
his  hands. 

And  then  I  notices  the  rattan  cane.  After 
that  it  was  all  clear.  "  Where 'd  you  cop  the 
stick,  Cliffy!  "says  I. 

Stick !  ' '  says  he.    ' '  Why,  bless  me !  I  must 


1 1 


146  TOECHY 

have  taken  this  instead  of  my  umbrella.  It  be 
longs  to  that  gentleman  who  sat  next  to  me  in 
the  subway  train.  You  see  he  was  leaning  back 
taking  a  nap  in  the  corner,  and  I  was  trying  to 
talk  to  him,  and  when  I  left  I  suppose  I  took 
his  cane  by  mistake." 

' '  Well, ' '  says  I,  '  *  the  Zinskis  goes  with  the 
cane." 

It's  a  fact,  too.  Most  all  them  immigrant 
runners  carries  rattans  when  they're  herdin' 
gangs  of  imported  pick  artists  around  to  the 
railroad  stations.  It's  kind  of  a  badge  and 
helps  the  bunch  to  keep  track  of  their  leader. 
Most  likely  them  Zinskis  had  had  their  eyes 
glued  to  that  cane  for  hours,  knowin'  that  it  was 
leadin'  'em  to  a  job  somewheres,  and  they 
wa'n't  goin'  to  let  it  get  away. 

."  Gimme  it,"  says  I;  "  I'll  show  you  how  it 
works." 

Sure  enough,  soon's  I  took  it  and  started  for 
the  door  the  whole  push  quits  eatin'  cheese  and 
bread  out  of  their  pockets  and  falls  in  right  after 
me. 

"  Fine!  "  says  Mr.  Eobert,  grabbin'  my  hat 
and  chuckin'  it  after  me.  "  Go  on,  Torchy! 
Keep  going!  " 

11  Ah,  say!  "  says  I.  "I  ain't  subbin'  for 
Cliffy.  This  is  his  gang." 

But  Mr.  Eobert  only  grins  and  motions  me  to 
be  on  my  way.  ' '  If  you  come  back  here  before 


DOWN  THE  BUMPS  WITH  CLIFFY  147 

to-morrow  morning,"  says  lie,  "  I'll  discharge 
you  on  the  spot." 

Now  wouldn't  that  bump  you? 

"  All  right,"  says  I:  "  but  this '11  cost  Cliffy 
just  twenty." 

"  I'll  pay  it,"  says  Mr.  Kobert. 

"It's  a  whizz,"  says  I,  wavin'  the  cane. 
"  Come  on,  you  Sneezowskis!  I'll  show  you 
where  the  one  fifty  per  grows  on  bushes." 

What  did  I  do  with  'em?  Ah,  say,  it  was 
a  cinch !  I  runs  'em  down  seven  flights  of  stairs, 
marches  'em  three  blocks  up  town,  and  then 
rushes  up  to  a  big  stiff  in  a  green  and  gold  uni 
form  that 's  hired  to  stand  outside  a  flower  shop 
and  open  carriage  doors.  He  and  me  had  some 
words  a  couple  of  months  ago,  because  I  butted 
him  in  the  belt  when  I  was  in  a  hurry  once. 

"  Here,"  says  I,  rushin'  up  and  jammin'  the 
cane  into  his  hand,  "  hold  that  till  I  come 
back!  "  and  before  he  has  time  to  pipe  off  the 
bunch  of  Polackers  that's  come  to  a  parade  rest 
around  us,  I  makes  a  dive  in  amongst  the  cars 
and  beats  it  down  Broadway. 

Nah,  I  don't  know  what  becomes  of  him,  or 
the  Zinskis  either.  All  I  know  is  that  I'm 
twenty  to  the  good,  and  that  Cousin  Clifford's 
been  shipped  back  to  Bubble  Creek,  glad  to  get 
out  of  New  York  alive.  But,  as  I  says  to  Mr. 
Robert, ' '  What  do  you  look  for  from  a  guy  that 
buttons  his  ear*  up  in  flannel?  " 


CHAPTER  X 

BACKING   OUT   OP   A   FLUFF  BIOT 

THEY  will  turn  up,  won't  they?  Here  I  was 
only  yesterday  noontime  loafin'  through  the 
arcade,  when  who  should  I  get  the  hail  from 
but  Hunch  Leary,  with  a  bookful  of  rush  mes 
sages  and  his  cap  down  over  his  ears. 

Now  I  ain't  sayin'  he's  the  toughest  lookin' 
A.  D.  T.  that  ever  sat  on  a  call  bench,  for  maybe 
I've  seen  worse;  but  with  his  bent-in  nose,  and 
his  pop  eyes,  and  tl|at  undershot  jaw — well,  he 
ain't  one  you'd  send  in  to  quiet  a  cryin'  baby. 
Hunch  didn't  pose  for  that  picture  of  the  sweet 
youth  on  the  blue  signs  outside  the  district  of 
fices.  They  don't  pick  him  out  for  these 
theater-escort  snaps,  either. 

Which  shows  how  far  you  can  go  on  looks, 
anyway;  for,  if  I  was  going  to  trust  my  safety- 
vault  key  with  anyone,  it  would  be  Hunch.  Not 
that  they'll  ever  use  him  to  decorate  any 
stained-glass  window;  but  I  never  look  for  him 
to  land  on  the  rock  pile. 

Course,  I  don't  see  much  of  Hunch  and  the 
rest  these  days;  but  it  ain't  a  case  of  dodgin' 

148 


BACKING  OUT  OF  A  FLUFF  RIOT     149 

old  friends  on  my  part,  so  me  and  him  hangs 
up  against  a  radiator  in  the  main  corridor  and 
talks  it  over.  I  wants  to  know  if  Stiff  Miller  is 
still  manager  down  at  No.  11  branch,  and  who 's 
wearin'  the  red  stripe  yet;  while  Hunch  he  puts 
over  a  few  polite  quizzes  as  to  how  I'm  get- 
tin'  on  with  the  Corrugated  people. 

We  hadn't  been  gassin'  but  five  minutes  or 
so,  and  there's  ten  more  due  on  the  clock  be 
fore  lunch  hour  is  over,  when  I  looks  up  to  see 
our  Mr.  Piddie  going  by  and  givin'  me  the 
frown.  I  knew  what  that  meant.  It's  another 
calldown.  He  has  plenty  of  time  to  work  up 
his  case;  for  I  takes  the  limit  and  don't  hang 
up  my  hat  until  the  life-insurance  chimes  has 
done  their  one-o'clock  stunt.  And  I'm  hardly 
settled  behind  the  brass  gate  before  Piddie  is 
down  on  me  with  the  old  mushy-mouthed  re 
proof. 

"  One  is  known,"  says  he,  "  by  the  company 
one  keeps." 

"I'm  no  New  Theater  manager,"  says  I. 
"  What's  the  answer!  " 

"  I  observed  you  loitering  in  the  lower  cor 
ridor,"  says  he.  "  That  is  all." 

"  Oh!  "  says  I.  "  You  seen  me  conversin' 
with  Mr.  Leary,  eh?  " 

"  Mr.  Leary!  "  says  Piddie,  raisin'  his  eye 
brows. 

"  Well,  Hunch,  then,"  says  I.    "  Tryin'  to 


150  TOECHY 

get  up  a  grouch  because  you  wa'n't  introduced? 
Don't  take  it  hard.  He's  kind  of  exclusive,  Mr. 
Leary  is." 

Piddle  swallows  that  throat  pippin  of  his  two 
or  three  times  before  he  can  get  a  grip  on  his 
feelings  enough  to  go  on  with  the  lesson  of 
the  day.  ' '  I  merely  wish  to  remark, ' '  says  he, 
"  that  evil  communications  corrupt  good  man 
ners." 

"  How  about  court  Judges,  then,"  says  I, 
"  and  these  slum  missionaries?  G'wan,  Pid- 
die !  Back  to  the  copybook  with  your  mottoes ! 
I'm  a  mixer,  I  am!  Would  I  be  chinnin'  here 
with  you  if  I  wa'n't?  " 

He  sighs,  Piddie  does,  and  struts  away  to 
freeze  the  soul  of  some  new  lady  typist  by 
looking  over  her  shoulder.  As  an  act  of  char 
ity,  they  ought  to  let  Piddie  fire  me  about  once 
a  month.  He'll  die  of  grief  if  he  don't  get  the 
chance  sometime. 

And  blamed  if  he  don't  come  near  gettin'  his 
heart's  desire  before  the  day  was  over! 

It  all  begins  about  three  o'clock,  when  Pid 
die  comes  turkeyin'  out  of  the  telephone  booth 
all  swelled  up  with  importance  and  signals  me 
to  come  on  the  carpet. 

"  Torchy,"  says  he,  "I  presume  you  know 
where  the  Metropolitan  Building  is?  " 

11  They  ain't  moved  it  since  lunchtime,  have 
they?  "  says  I. 


* '  That  will  do !  "  says  he.  ' '  Now  listen  very 
carefully. ' ' 

You'd  thought  from  his  preamble  that  I  was 
going  to  be  sent  up  to  regulate  the  clock,  or 
see  if  the  tower  was  still  plumb;  but  all  it  sim 
mers  down  to  is  that  I'm  to  take  a  leather  docu 
ment  case,  hunt  up  Mr.  Ellins,  who's  attendin' 
a  directors'  meetin'  over  there,  and  deliver 
some  papers  that  he's  forgot  to  have  his  pri 
vate  secretary  lug  along. 

"  And  kindly  refrain,"  he  tacks  on  at  the 
last,  "  from  stopping  to  talk  with  any  suspi 
cious  characters  on  the  way." 

"  Say,  Piddie,"  says  I,  "if  I  was  you  I'd 
have  that  printed  on  a  card.  Some  day  you're" 
going  to  forget  to  rub  that  in." 

Well,  I  hustles  across  the  square,  locates  Old 
Hickory,  and  delivers  the  goods  without  drop- 
pin'  'em  down  a  manhole  or  doin'  any  of  the 
other  awful  things  that  Piddie  would  have 
warned  me  against  if  he'd  had  more  time.  I 
tucks  the  empty  case  under  my  arm  and  was 
for  makin'  a  record  trip  back,  just  to  surprise 
Piddie;  but  while  I'm  waitin'  for  that  flossy 
lever  juggler  on  the  express  elevator  to  answer 
my  red-light  signal  I  hears  this  riot  break  loose 
on  the  floor  below. 

And  say,  I  wa'n't  missin'  any  lively  disturb 
ance  like  that;  for  it  listens  like  a  mob  scene 
from  one  of  them  French  guillotine  plays. 


152  TOECHY 

Mostly  it's  female  voices  that  floats  up,  and 
they  was  all  tuned  to  the  saw-filin'  pitch.  A 
pasty-faced  young  gent  wearin'  a  green  eye- 
shade  and  an  office  coat  comes  beatin'  it  up  the 
marble  steps,  and  I  fires  a  question  at  him  on 
the  fly. 

"  Is  it  a  gen'ral  rough-house  number,"  says 
I,  "or  have  the  suffragettes  broke  loose 
again?  " 

"  You're  welcome  to  find  out  for  yourself," 
he  pants,  dashin'  up  another  flight. 

"  Thanks  for  the  invite,"  says  I.  "  Guess  I 
will." 

And,  say,  talk  about  your  mass  plays  around 
a  shirtwaist  bargain  counter!  Why,  the  cor 
ridor  was  full  of  'em,  all  try  in'  to  rush  the 
door  of  1,323  at  once.  For  a  guess  I  should 
say  that  half  the  manicure  artists,  lady  demon 
strators,  and  cloak  models  between  14th  and 
34th  was  on  the  spot.  Oh,  they  was  a  swell 
bunch,  with  more  fur  turbans  and  Marie  An 
toinette  ringlets  on  view  than  you  could  see 
collected  anywhere  outside  of  Murray's! 

They  was  sayin'  things,  too!  I  couldn't  catch 
anything  but  odd  words  here  and  there;  but 
the  gen'ral  drift  of  their  remarks  seems  to  be 
that  someone  has  welshed  on  'em.  First  off  I 
thought  it  must  be  one  of  these  skirt  bucket- 
shops  that  has  been  closed  out  by  the  renting 
agent;  but  then  I  gets  a  look  at  the  sign  on 


BACKING  OUT  OF  A  FLUFF  RIOT     153 

the  door  and  sees  that  it's  the  Peruvian  Invest 
ment  Company,  which  sounds  like  one  of  them 
common  twenty  per  cent,  a  month  games. 

And  it's  a  case  of  lockout,  with  the  lady  cus 
tomers  ragin'  on  the  outside,  and  nobody  knows 
what's  takin'  place  behind  the  ground  glass. 
That  wa'n't  excitin'  enough  to  lure  me  from 
a  steady  job  for  long,  though,  unless  some  one 
was  goin'  to  do  more'n  look  desp'rate  and  talk 
spiteful. 

"  Ah,  why  not  smash  something?  "  I  sings 
out.  "  Didn't  any  lady  think  to  bring  a  brick 
in  her  vanity  bag?  " 

A  couple  turns  around  and  glares  at  me ;  but 
it  encourages  one  to  begin  hammerin'  on  the 
glass  with  her  near-gold  purse,  and  just  as  I'm 
about  to  leave  this  turns  the  trick.  The  door 
swings  open  all  of  a  sudden,  and  there  stands 
a  tall,  well-built  gent,  with  a  green  felt  hat 
pushed  back  on  his  head,  a  five-inch  cigar  jut- 
tin'  out  of  one  corner  of  his  mouth,  and  his 
thumbs  stuck  in  the  pockets  of  a  sporty  striped 
vest.  On  account  of  the  curly  brown  Vandyke, 
he's  kind  of  a  foreign-lookin'  party;  but  some 
way  them  smilin',  wide-open  eyes  of  his  has  a 
sort  of  familiar  look. 

For  a  high  pressure  storm  center  he  seems 
mighty  placid.  As  he  throws  open  the  door 
he  steps  back  into  the  middle  of  the  room,  rests 
one  elbow  against  the  rail  of  a 


154  TORCHY 

cashier's  coop,  and  removes  the  cheroot  so  he 
can  spring  a  comfortin'  smile  on  the  crowd. 
It's  a  brainy  play.  The  rush  line  stops  like  it 
has  gone  up  against  a  bridge  pier,  and  then 
spreads  out  in  a  half -circle. 

11  Well,  ladies,"  says  he,  "  what  can  we  do 
for  you  to-day?  " 

Do  I  know  who  it  is  then?  Well,  do  I! 
Maybe  it  has  been  months  since  I've  heard  the 
voice,  and  maybe  he  does  wear  a  set  of  face 
herbage  that  I'd  never  seen  before;  but  I  ain't 
one  to  forget  the  only  real  A-l  classy  boss  I 
ever  had;  not  that  soon,  anyway.  It's  Mr.  Bel- 
mont  Pepper,  as  sure  as  I've  got  a  Titian 
thatch  on  my  skull! 

Do  I  linger?  That's  what!  Why,  I've  been 
waitin'  for  him  to  show  up  again  like  a  hired 
girl  waits  for  Thursday  afternoon.  It's  Mr. 
Pepper,  all  right;  but  it  looks  like  he's  been  let 
in  bad,  for  after  one  or  two  gasps  in  chorus 
that  bunch  of  lady  grouches  gets  their  second 
wind  and  closes  in  on  him  with  a  whoop. 

"  Where's  my  dividends?  I  want  to  draw 
out  my  money!  Say,  you  give  me  back  my 

eighteen  dollars,  or  I'll You'll  try  your 

bunko  game  on  me,  will  you?  Hey!  I've  been 
waiting  since  noon  to  catch  you,  you ': 

My!  but  they  did  have  their  hammers  out! 
They  called  him  everything  that  a  lady  could, 
and  a  few  names  that  wa'n't  'so  ladylike  as 


BACKING  OUT  OF  A  FLUFF  EIOT     155 

they  might  have  been.  They  shook  things  at 
him,  and  promised  to  do  him  all  sorts  of  dam 
age,  from  bringin'  lawsuits  to  scratchin'  his 
eyes  out. 

Mr.  Pepper,  though,  he  goes  on  smokin'  and 
smilin',  now  and  then  throwin'  in  a  shoulder 
shrug  just  to  hint  that  there  wa'n't  any  use 
in  his  tryin'  to  get  in  a  word  until  they  was 
all  through.  He  almost  acts  like  he  enjoyed 
being  mobbed;  but  of  course  he  knew  better 'n 
to  choke  off  a  lot  of  women  before  they'd  had 
their  say  out.  He  just  let  'em  jaw  along  and 
get  it  out  of  their  systems.  Fin'lly  he  raises 
his  hand,  takes  off  the  green  lid,  and  bows 
graceful. 

* '  Ladies, ' '  says  lie,  "  I  fully  sympathize  with 
your  impatience — fully. ' ' 

"  You  look  it,  I  don't  think!  "  sings  out  a 
big  blonde,  shakin'  her  willow  plumes  ener 
getic. 

Mr.  Pepper  throws  her  a  smile  and  spiels 
ahead.  "  You  will  be  pleased  to  hear,  how 
ever,"  says  he,  "  that  the  board  of  directors, 
on  the  strength  of  cabled  advices  from  our  gen 
eral  manager  in  Peru,  has  just  voted  an  extra 
dividend  of  ten  per  cent." 

"  When  do  we  get  it?  Show  us  some 
money!  "  howls  the  kickers. 

"  I  have  been  requested  to  announce,"  goes 
on  Mr.  Pepper,  "  that  payments  from  this  of- 


156  TORCHY 

fice  will  be  resumed  promptly  at  noon — on  the 
first  day  of  next  month." 

Does  that  satisfy  'em?  Not  so  you'd  notice 
it.  A  bigger  squawk  than  ever  goes  up,  and 
the  jam  around  Mr.  Pepper  begins  to  look  like 
rush  hour  at  the  Hudson  Terminal.  They 
starts  clawin'  at  his  elbows,  and  grabbin'  his 
coat,  and  when  I  notices  one  wild-eyed  brunette 
reachin'  for  a  hatpin  I  knew  it  was  a  case  of 
me  to  the  rescue  or  sendin'  in  an  ambulance  call. 

Not  that  I  had  any  notion  what  ought  to  be 
done  in  a  case  like  this.  I  couldn't  throw  him 
a  rope  or  shove  out  a  plank;  I  ain't  any  expert 
woman  trainer,  either;  but  can  I  stand  there 
with  my  mouth  open  and  see  an  old  friend  get 
the  hooks  thrown  into  him  by  a  class  in  hys 
terics  ?  Not  when  the  hookee  happens  to  be  one 
that  once  set  me  up  as  a  stockholder  in  a  gold 
mine.  So  I  lets  flicker  with  the  first  fool  idea 
that  comes  into  my  head. 

"  Gangway!  "  I  shouts  out,  wedgin'  my  way 
in  among  'em  and  usin '  my  elbows.  ' l  Gangway 
for  the  bank  messenger!  Ah,  don't  shove, 
girls;  he  ain't  the  only  man  left  in  New  York. 
One  side  for  the  real  money  bringer !  One  side 
now!  '  And  by  holdin'  the  leather  case  high 
up  where  they  could  all  see  it,  and  hittin'  the 
line  like  Coy  does  when  it's  three  downs  with 
ten  yards  to  go,  I  manages  to  get  through  with 
out  losin'  many  coat  buttons. 


BACKING  OUT  OF  A  FLUFF  EIOT     157 

"  Here  you  are,  sir,"  says  I,  shovin'  the  case 
out  to  Mr.  Pepper  and  givin'  him  the  knowin' 
look.  "  City  National.  Cashier  wants  a  re 
ceipt.  ' ' 

Does  he  need  a  diagram  and  a  card  of  in 
structions  !  Trust  Belmont  Pepper !  ' '  Ah,  this 
way, ' '  says  he.  '  *  Pardon  me  a  moment,  ladies, 
only  a  moment.  This  way,  young  man."  And 
almost  before  they  know  what  has  happened 
him  and  me  are  behind  the  partition  with  the 
gate  locked. 

"  Let's  see,"  says  he,  lookin'  me  over  kind 
of  puzzled,  "  it's — er — Torchy,  isn't  it?  " 

"  There's  the  proof,"  says  I,  liftin'  the  cover 
off  my  danger  signal. 

"  I  might  have  known,"  says  he,  "  that  no 
one  else  could  have  put  up  so  good  a  bluff  on 
the  spur  of  the " 

"  Now  that's  all  right,  Mr.  Pepper,"  says  I;. 
"  but  the  bluff  won't  hold  'em  long.  What  you 
want  to  do  is  get  busy  and  make  a  noise  like 
hundred-dollar  bills.  I  don't  know  what  the 
trouble  is;  but  it  looks  like  the  genuine  goods 
to  me." 

"  Diagnosis  correct,"  says  he.  "I'm  boxed. 
Now  if  they  were  only  men,  I  could 

' '  Oh,  sure !  ' '  says  I.  ' '  But  a  bunch  of  nutty 
fluffs  is  diff'rent.  They  never  know  what  they 
want  or  why  they  want  it.  Say,  ain't  you  got 
another  exit?  " 


158  TOECHY 

Mr.  Pepper  shakes  his  head.  "  No,  son," 
says  he;  "  but  don't  you  worry  about  me.  Your 
strategy  thus  far  has  been  excellent;  but  I  don't 
want  you  to  get  mixed  up  in  this  mess.  Skip, 
Torchy,  while  the  skipping  is  easy. ' ' 

"  Mr.  Pepper,"  says  I,  "do  I  look  like  a 
quitter?  I  ain't  forgot  what  you  did  about 
givin'  me  them  Glory  Be  stocks,  either,  and 
I'm  goin'  to  hang  around  here  until  this  little 
private  cyclone  of  yours  blows  over." 

Mr.  Pepper  he  looks  at  me  a  minute  in  that 
calm  way  of  his,  and  then  he  shrugs  his  shoul 
ders.  "  All  right,"  says  he. 

Then  we  listens  to  the  buzz  outside.  Some 
was  explainin'  to  others  how  a  bushel  of  money 
had  just  come  in  from  the  City  National  Bank, 
and  some  was  insistin'  that  it  was  just  a  north- 
pole  fake.  It's  a  free-for-all  debate  with  all 
rules  in  the  discard.  Then  we  hears  one  voice 
that's  louder  than  the  others  calling  out  for 
a  committee. 

"We  must  organize!"  she  says.  "Let's 
organize  for  action!  " 

' '  Ah !  ' '  observes  Mr.  Pepper.  * '  Now  for 
feminine  tactics!  That  looks  better." 

A  couple  of  minutes  more  and  they've  con 
cluded  to  adjourn  to  the  corridor.  When 
they're  all  out  and  I  can  hear  'em  down  at  the 
further  end,  I  gives  him  the  tip. 

"  Now's  your  chance!  "  says  I.     "  Up  one 


BACKING  OUT  OF  A  FLUFF  EIOT     159 

flight  and  you  can  get  an  express  elevator.  I'll 
show  you." 

Mr.  Pepper  don't  like  the  idea,  though,  of 
doin'  the  gumshoe  sneak.  He  hates  to  run  away 
from  any  kind  of  a  fight,  specially  a  lot  of 
women.  He  don't  run,  either;  but  after  awhile 
he  consents  to  walk  out,  and  we  strolls  towards 
the  steps  dignified  and  easy. 

It  looked  like  a  clean  get-away  for  a  minute, 
too;  but  I  hadn't  counted  on  their  leavin'  a 
picket  to  watch  the  elevator.  She  sees  us  and 
gives  the  alarm;  so  by  the  time  we're  up  to 
the  next  floor  the  whole  mob  is  after  us,  let- 
tin'  out  the  war  cries  as  if  it  was  a  case  of 
kidnappin'. 

They  struck  the  upper  corridor  just  as  I've 
got  my  finger  on  the  button,  and  in  the  front 
ranks  they're  pushin'  along  the  gray  uniformed 
special  cop  that  they've  rung  up  from  the  first 
floor.  Also  who  should  step  out  into  the  midst 
of  the  riot  but  Old  Hickory  Ellins,  just  leavin' 
the  directors'  meeting.  He  goes  purple-faced 
and  bug-eyed,  but  before  I  can  dodge  out  of 
sight  of  course  he  spots  me.  And  that's  the 
very  minute  when  a  couple  of  lady  avengers 
points  me  and  Mr.  Pepper  out  to  the  cop  and 
the  pinch  business  is  about  to  begin. 

"  Why,  what's  all  the  row  about,  Torchy?  " 
says  he.  "  And  who  is  that  with  you?  "  He 
gets  answers  from  the  anvil  chorus. 


160  TOKCHY 

"  That's  the  swindler!  "  they  shouts. 
'  *  That 's  Prentice  Owens !  He 's  the  one  that 
took  our  money,  and  the  boy  is  one  of  the  gang! 
Nab  'em,  Mr.  Officer,  please  nab  'em!  " 

"  G'wan,  you're  a  lot  of  flossy  kikes!  "  I 
throws  back  at  'em. 

' '  Torchy, ' '  says  Mr.  Ellins,  ' '  have  you  been 
up  to  any  swindling  game?  " 

"  Honest,  I  ain't,  Mr.  Ellins,"  says  I. 

11  I  am  inclined  to  believe  that,"  says  he; 
"  but  what  about  the  other  person?  Is  he  a 
friend  of  yours  1  ' ' 

"  Sure,"  says  I.  "  And  he's  on  the  level 
too." 

11  He's  Prentice  Owens,  is  he?  "  says  he. 

"  Nah,"  says  I.  "  He's  Mr.  Belmont  Pep 
per,  he  is,  president  of  the  Glory  Be  Mining 
Company.  Why,  I  used  to  work  for  him !  That 
aggregation  of  female  dopes  is  full  of  prunes. 
Mr.  Pepper's  no  crook." 

"  Hum!  "  says  Old  Hickory,  rubbin'  his 
chin.  "  A  case  of  mistaken  identity,  eh?  Offi 
cer,  you  know  me,  I  suppose?  ' 

"  Yes,  Mr.  Ellins,"  says  the  special,  jerkin' 
off  his  cap,  "  oh,  yes,  sir." 

"  Then  drive  these  deluded  women  down 
stairs  and  tell  them  their  mistake,"  says  Old 
Hickory.  "  Come,  Mr.  Pepper.  Come,  Torchy. 
In  with  you!  " 

And   inside   of   two    shakes   we're    shootin' 


BACKING  OUT  OF  A  FLUFF  EIOT     161 

down  a  one  hundred  and  fifty  foot  shaft  with 
no  stops  until  the  ground  floor.  Not  until  we 
gets  outside  and  Mr.  Ellins  jumps  into  his  cab 
does  Mr.  Pepper  say  a  word. 

"  Torchy,"  says  he,  "  you're  the  real  thing 
in  the  friendship  line.  I  will  admit  that  ap 
pearances  are  somewhat  against  me,  but " 

"  Ah,  say!  "  I  breaks  in.  "  Don't  I  know 
you,  Mr.  Pepper?  Do  I  have  to  see  any  books 
to  know  that  you're  playin'  a  straight  game? 
It  was  a  matter  of  needin'  a  little  time,  wa'n't 
it,  and  bein'  rushed  off  your  feet  when  you 
didn't  expect  the  move?  I  could  guess  that 
much  from  the  start.  All  I  want  to  ask  is,  how's 
the  mine  gettin'  on,  the  Glory  Be,  you  know?  " 

He  looks  at  his  feet  for  a  second  or  so  and 
kind  of  flushes.  Then  he  straightens  up,  looks 
me  level  between  the  eyes,  and  reaches  out  a 
hand  to  give  me  the  brotherhood  grip. 

11  Torchy,"  says  he,  "  there  is  a  mine,  and 
the  last  I  heard  it  was  still  there.  Anyway, 
I'm  dropping  the  investment  business  right 
here,  and  I'm  going  out  to  see  what  our  prop 
erty  looks  like.  I'll  let  you  know."  With  that 
he  whirls  and  dashes  off  across  the  avenue. 

"  How  is  it,"  says  Piddie  when  I  gets  back, 
"  that  it  takes  you  an  hour  and  a  quarter  to 
go  four  blocks?  " 

* '  Hookworms,  Piddie, ' '  says  I,  * '  hookworms, 
I  had  a  sudden  attack." 


CHAPTER  XI 

RUNG  IN    WITH   THE   GOLD  SPOOLERS 

ON  the  level  now,  what's  a  he  Cinderella? 
And  if  your  boss  called  you  a  name  like  that, 
would  you  resign,  or  throw  out  your  chest  and 
strike  for  a  raise?  But,  then,  maybe  it  was 
only  some  of  Mr.  Robert's  fancy  joshin'.  Any 
way,  I'd  stand  in  line  waitin'  for  a  thing  like 
that  to  happen  again. 

The  way  it  begun  was  when  I  runs  across 
this  new  girl  in  the  filin'  room  and  finds  her 
snifflin'  over  one  of  the  index  cases.  She's 
bitin'  her  lips  to  keep  from  doing  it  and  she's 
red  way  up  behind  her  ears;  so  I  knows  she's 
more  mad  than  sorry.  I  could  guess  what's 
happened;  for  I'd  just  seen  Piddie  come  out  of 
there  looking  satisfied  and  important. 

"  Hello,  sis!  "  says  I.  "  Weepin'  over  your 
job  so  soon?  " 

"  Shut  up!  "  says  she. 

"  Why,  how  pettish!  "  says  I.  "  What  was 
Piddie  callin'  you  down  for?  " 

"  What's  that  to  you?  "  says  she.  "  Who 
are  you,  anyway?  " 

162 


BUNG  IN  WITH  GOLD  SPOONERS  163 

"Me?"  says  I.  "Why,  I'm  the  Corru 
gated 's  gen'ral  grouch  dispeller.  I'm  the  offi 
cial  little  ray  of  sunshine.  See?  "  and  I  bobs 
my  head  so  she  can  get  a  good  view  of  my  red 
thatch. 

"  Huh!  "  says  she;  but  she  can't  help  lettin' 
out  a  grin,  so  I  sees  the  cure  has  begun. 

"  Don't  you  mind  Piddie,"  says  I.  "  He 
don't  dare  tie  the  can  to  you  without  reportin' 
higher  up.  He  likes  to  make  a  noise  like  a 
watchdog,  that's  all.  Next  time  you  give  him 
the  merry  chuckle." 

And,  honest,  I'd  done  the  same  if  she'd  been 
wall-eyed  and  toggle-jointed,  just  for  the  sake 
of  blockin'  off  his  little  game. 

It  wa'n't  until  a  couple  of  days  later,  when 
she  shoots  over  a  casual  flashlight  look  as  I'm 
strollin'  past,  that  I  takes  any  partic'lar  no 
tice  of  what  a  Daisy  Maizie  she  is.  There's 
more  or  less  class  to  her  lines,  all  right,  not 
to  mention  a  pair  of  rollin'  brown  eyes.  Course, 
I  sends  back  the  roguish  wink,  and  by  the  end 
of  the  week  we  was  callin'  each  other  by  our 
pet  names. 

Not  that  I'm  entered  reg'lar  as  a  Percy  boy, 
or  that  I  takes  this  so  serious  as  to  miss  any 
meals;  but  you  know  how  it  is.  And  what  if 
she  was  a  few  years  older?  She  seems  to  like 
it  when  I  sing  out,  "  Oh,  you  Theresa!  "  at 
her,  and  once  she  mussed  up  my  hair  when 


164  TOECHY 

there  wa'n't  anybody  lookin'.  In  fact,  I  was 
almost  to  the  point  of  thinkin'  that  I'd  been 
picked  as  somebody's  honey  boy  when  this  Izzy 
Budheimer  shows  up  as  a  late  entry. 

Izzy,  he's  a  third  assistant  in  the  stock  de 
partment,  and  on  twelve  a  week  he  sports  one 
of  those  striped  green  overcoats  and  a  plush 
hat  with  the  bow  behind.  Maybe  he  wouldn't 
be  listed  as  a  home  destroyer;  but  he  has  a 
flossy  way  with  him  and  he  goes  around  a  lot. 
About  the  second  week  I  sees  him  and  the  new 
girl  gettin'  chummier  and  chummier,  and, 
while  she  still  has  a  jolly  for  me  now  and  then, 
I  knows  I'm  only  a  side  issue.  That's  what 
hurt  most.  So  what  fool  play  must  I  make  but 
go  and  plunge  on  a  sixty-cent  box  of  mixed 
choc'lates  for  her! 

As  luck  would  have  it,  Mr.  Eobert  spots  me 
comin'  out  of  the  23d-st.  candy  shop  with  the 
package  under  my  arm.  You  wouldn't  think 
he'd  notice  a  little  clew  like  that,  or  pick  me 
up  on  it;  but  he  does. 

"  How  now,  Torchy?  "  says  he.  "  Sweets  to 
the  sweet,  eh?  " 

"  Uh-huh,"  says  I,  and  I  guess  I  colors  up 
some. 

"  What  is  the  fair  one's  name?  "  says  he. 

"  Tessie,"  says  I. 

"  Ah!  "  says  he.  "  Thus  were  they  ever 
named:  Tessie,  Juliet,  and  Helen  of  Troy. 


BUNG  IN  WITH  GOLD  SPOONERS  165 

They're  all  one.  My  envious  sympathy, 
Torchy,  and  may  the  gods  be  kind!  " 

Which  is  only  the  brand  of  hot  air  Mr.  Rob 
ert  blows  off  whenever  he  has  a  good  lunch 
under  his  vest  and  nothin'  heavy  on  his  mind. 
It  don't  mean  anything  at  all. 

"  Troy!  "  says  I.  "  Can  it!  This  ain't  for 
no  up-State  laundry  hand.  She  comes  from 
Eighth-ave." 

Well,  I  stows  the  box  away  until  closin'  time, 
and  then  waits  around  the  upper  corridor  for 
Tessie  to  show  up.  Izzy,  he  spots  me  and  pro 
ceeds  to  improve  the  time  by  givin'  me  an  ear 
ache  about  what  an  important  party  he  is,  how 
he  expects  to  be  jumped  a  notch  soon,  and  about 
how  much  he  makes  nights  on  the  outside,  fol- 
lowin'  up  some  checkroom  snap  or  other. 

"  That's  fine!  "  says  I.  "  But  won't  you  be 
late  gettin'  over  to  Grand-st.?  " 

Izzy  was  still  explainin'  how  long  it  was  since 
his  folks  moved  to  the  West  Side,  and  what  swell 
things  they  had  in  the  parlor,  when  Tessie 
floats  out  with  her  new  spring  lid  and  princess 
walkin' suit  on.  I'm  just  shovin' out  the  peace 
offerin'  and  gettin'  ready  to  hand  over  my 
smoothest  josh,  when  she  brushes  past  like  I 
was  part  of  the  wall  decoration,  squeals,  "  Oh, 
Mr.  Budheimer!  "  and  begins  showin'  Izzy 
some  tickets  for  the  grand  annual  benefit  ball 
of  the  Shirtwaist  Makers'  Union,  and  tellin' 


166  TORCHY 

him  how  she  was  sellin'  'em  for  her  sister,  and 
what  a  grand  time  it  was  goin'  to  be. 

"  How  much?  "  says  Izzy,  tryin'  hard  to 
choke  it  back,  but  losin'  the  struggle. 

"  Seventy-five  for  a  double  ticket,"  says 
Tessie.  "  That's  the  kind  you  want." 

"  Maybe  I  would  yet,  if  I  could  get  a  part 
ner,"  says  he. 

"  Ain't  that  an  awful  sad  case?  "  says  Tes 
sie.  "  Nobody's  teased  me  very  hard,  either." 

"  You'll  go  with  me,  yes?  "  says  Izzy. 

"  It's  awful  sudden,"  says  she;  "  but  a 
chance  is  a  chance.  Don't  send  a  cab;  the 
folks  in  the  block  might  think  I  was  putting 
on." 

And  me  1  Why,  I  don 't  show  on  the  chart  at 
all !  Eight  under  my  nose  she  does  it,  and 
don't  even  give  me  a  sideways  glance. 

"  Pooh!  "  says  I.    "  Pooh,  pooh!  " 

"  What  a  cute  little  fellah!  "  says  Tessie  to 
him  as  they  crowds  into  the  elevator  with  the 
rest  of  the  push. 

"  Say,"  says  I,  making  a  jump  for  the  grat 
ing,  "  you  don't  need  to " 

"  Next  car!  "  sings  out  the  Johnny  Flip, 
slammin'  the  door.  Now  wa'n't  that  rubbin' 
it  in? 

"  Coises!  "  says  I.  "Deep  coises!"  and 
walks  down  eleven  flights  with  a  temperature 
that  would  have  got  me  condemned  by  any 


BUNG  IN  WITH  GOLD  SPOONERS  167 

boiler  inspector  in  the  business.  The  candy? 
That  goes  to  one  of  the  pie-faced  maids  where 
I  lives. 

The  nerve  of  that  Izzy,  though!  In  the 
mornin'  he  comes  around  just  like  nothin'  had 
happened  and  wants  to  know  if  I'll  sub.  for 
him  on  his  evenin'  job  the  night  he  goes  to  the 
ball.  To  show  I  don't  carry  any  grouch,  I  says 

I  will;  but  he  offers  only  half-pay  and  makes 
me  agree  to  split  the  tips  with  him. 

11  I   couldn't   afford   it,   at   that,"   says   he, 

II  only  this  is  a  kid  session  and  the  graft  will 
be  light." 

It's  this  checkroom  work  of  his,  you  know, 
at  one  of  them  swell  Fifth-ave.  joints  where 
they  have  an  extra  night  force  on  call  for  com 
ing-out  parties  and  dinner  dances  and  the  like. 
So,  while  him  and  Tessie  is  enjoyin'  themselves 
with  the  lady  shirtwaist  makers,  I'm  standin' 
behind  the  counter  wearin'  a  braided  jacket, 
givin'  out  check  coupons,  and  stowin'  away 
hats  and  top-coats  for  Master  Reginald  and 
other  buddin'  sports  of  the  younger  set.  Seems 
this  is  the  final  blowout  of  Miss  Somebody's 
afternoon  dancin'  class,  and  no  one  was  allowed 
inside  unless  Father  had  his  name  printed  in 
bright  red  ink  in  the  social  register. 

A  hot  lot  of  young  gold  spooners  they  was 
too ;  some  of  'em  not  as  old  as  me  by  a  couple 
of  years,  and  swellin'  around  in  dinky  Tuxes 


168  TOECHY 

and  white  kids.  One  of  'em  even  hands  me  in 
a  silver-headed  cane. 

"  Careful  of  that  stick,  my  man,"  says  he. 

"  Oh,  sure!  "  says  I.  "  Puppah'd  be  wild 
if  anything  happened  to  it,  wouldn't  he?  " 

And  you  should  have  heard  the  talk  they  had 
as  they  loafs  around  the  cloakroom  between  the 
numbers, — all  about  the  awful  things  they  did 
at  prep  school,  how  they  bunked  the  masters, 
and  smuggled  brandied  peaches  up  to  their 
rooms,  and  rough-housed  durin'  mornin'  pray 
ers.  Almost  made  your  blood  run  cold — not. 

When  they  got  to  discussin'  the  girls,  though, 
and  savin'  how  such, a  one  was  a  "  jolly  sort," 
and  others  was  "  bloomin'  rotters,"  it  made 
me  seasick  and  it  was  a  relief  when  they  took 
to  whisperin'  things  I  couldn't  hear  about  the 
chaperons.  After  intermission  they  come 
sneakin'  in  by  twos  and  threes  to  hit  up  their 
cigarettes. 

It  was  about  eleven- thirty  and  there  was  four 
or  five  of  'em  in  the  cloakroom,  puffin'  away 
languid  like  real  clubmen,  when  in  drifts  a 
young  lady  all  in  pink  silk  and  gold  net  and 
hails  one  of  the  wicked  bunch. 

"Bobby,"  says  she,  "you  ought  to  be 
ashamed  of  yourself!  " 

"  Run  on  now,  Vee,"  says  he.  "  Told  you 
when  I  asked  you  to  come  that  I  wasn't  a  danc 
ing  man,  y'know." 


EUNG  IN  WITH  ttOLD  SPOONEES  169 

"  Fudge!"  says  she,  stampin'  her  foot. 
11  You  think  it's  smart  to  take  that  pose,  don't 
you?  Well,  you  wait !" 

And,  say,  you  talk  about  your  haughty 
beauts!  Why,  she  was  a  little  the  silkiest 
young  queen  I  ever  had  a  real  close  view  of, — 
the  slimmest  feet  and  ankles,  reg'lar  cameo-cut 
face  all  tinted  up  natural  like  a  bunch  of  sweet 
peas,  and  a  lot  of  straw-colored  hair  as  fine 
as  cobwebs.  She  was  a  thoroughbred  stunner, 
this  Miss  Vee  was,  and  mad  all  over. 

"  I  haven't  been  on  the  floor  for  four  num 
bers,"  she  goes  on.  "  You  just  wait!  ': 

11  You  wouldn't  be  cad  enough  to  peach  on 
us  for  smokin',  would  you!  "  says  Bobby. 

"  Wouldn't  I,  though!  "  says  she. 

That  starts  a  stampede.  All  but  Bobby 
chucks  away  their  cigarettes  and  beats  it  back 
to  the  ballroom.  He  turns  sulky,  though. 

"  Tell  ahead,"  says  he.  "  Who  cares?  And 
let's  see  you  get  any  more  dances!  ': 

He's  a  pasty-faced,  weak-jawed  youth  with  a 
chronic  scowl  and  a  sullen  look  in  his  eyes.  I 
should  say  he  was  sixteen  maybe,  and  the  young 
/lady  a  year  older.  She  grips  her  fan  hard 
and  stands  there  starin'  at  him.  I'm  so  much 
int 'rested  in  the  case  that  the  first  thing  I  know 
I've  butted  in  with  advice. 

' '  Ah,  be  nice,  Claude !  ' '  says  I.  * '  Dance 
with  the  young  lady.  I  would  if  I  was  you." 


170  TOECHY 

And  you  can't  guess  how  fussy  a  little  re 
mark  like  that  gets  Bobby  boy.  He  almost 
swallows  his  cigarette  from  the  jar  he  gets, 
being  spoken  to  by  a  common  cloakroom 
checker.  First  off  he  jumps  up  and  stalks  over 
to  me  real  majestic  and  threatenin'. 

"  You — you—  How  dare  you?  "  he  splut 
ters  out. 

"There,  there!"  says  I.  "Don't  get 
bristle-spined  over  it.  I  wa'n't  offerin'  any 
deadly  insult,  and  if  it  makes  you  feel  as  bad 
as  all  that  I'll  take  it  back." 

"  I — I'll  have  you  dismissed!  "  he  growls. 

"Can't  do  it,  Bobby,"  says  I.  "  I'm  no 
reg'lar  tip-chaser.  I'm  here  incog. — doing  it 
for  a  lark,  y'know.  Back  to  your  corner,  now! 
There's  a  lady  present." 

He  glares  at  me  for  a  minute  or  so,  and  then 
turns  on  the  queen  in  pink.  "  I  hope  you're 
satisfied,  Vee,"  says  he.  "  You  would  come  in 
here,  though !  I  can 't  help  it  if  the  attendants 
are  insolent  to  you." 

1 l  Pooh !  ' '  says  Miss  Vee.  ' '  The  young  man 
was  only  taking  my  part." 

"  So  ?  "  sneers  Bobbie.  ' '  I  congratulate  you 
on  your  new  champion." 

"  He  acts  more  like  a  gentleman  than  you 
do,  at  any  rate!  "  she  fires  back  at  him. 

"  Does  he!  "  says  Bobby.  "  Then  why  don't 
you  get  him  for  a  partner?  " 


EUNG  IN  WITH  GOLD  SPOONERS  171 

"  If  you  don't  ask  me  for  this  next  waltz,  I 
will,"  says  she,  tossin'  up  her  chin. 

"  What  a  bluff!  "  says  Bobby.  "  Well,  Miss 
Vee,  I'm  not  going  to  ask  you.  Now!  " 

Say,  it  was  gettin'  more  or  less  personal  by 
that  time,  and  I  was  wonderin'  just  how  the 
young  lady  was  goin'  to  back  out  of  the  propo 
sition  that  had  been  put  up  to  her,  when  the 
first  thing  I  know  she's  marchin'  straight  over 
to  where  I  was. 

"  Will  you  give  me  this  next  waltz?  "  says 
she. 

"  Say,"  I  gasps,  "  do  you  mean  it?  " 

"  Certainly  I  do,"  says  she.  "  You  can 
dance,  can't  you?  " 

"  I  don't  know,"  says  I;  "  but  I  can  do  an 
East  Side  spiel." 

"  Good!  "  says  she.  "  I  know  how  to  do 
that  too.  Come  on." 

"  In  a  minute,"  says  I.  "  Just  hold  on  un 
til  I  borrow  the  young  gentleman's  evenin' 
coat." 

"  Wha — what's  that?  "  snorts  Bobby. 

"  You  can  be  usin'  mine  for  a  smokin' 
jacket,"  says  I.  "  Peel  it  off  now,  and  let  the 
fancy  vest  come  along  too!  " 

"  I— I  won't  do  it!  "  says  Bobbie. 

"  Oh,  yes,  you  will,"  says  I,  "or  else  you 
and  me  will  be  mixed  up  in  a  rumpus  that'll 
bring  the  chaperons  and  special  cops  in  here 


172  TORCHY 

on  the  run,"  and  with  that  I  proceeds  to  shed 
the  braided  coat  and  my  black  vest. 

"  You're  insulting!  "  says  Bobby,  gettin' 
wild-eyed. 

"  G'wan!  "  says  I.  "  It's  a  fair  swap.  I'll 
leave  it  to  the  young  lady." 

And  when  I'd  sized  her  up  for  a  thorough 
bred  I  hadn't  made  any  wild  guess.  There's 
a  twinkle  under  them  long  eyelashes  that's  aa 
good  as  a  go-ahead  signal. 

"  Of  course,"  says  she.  "  It  was  you  who 
suggested  him  as  a  partner,  anyway.  And 
hurry,  Bobby,  there  goes  the  waltz!  " 

"  I — I "  he  begins. 

"  Ah,  shuck  'em!  "  says  I,  startin'  for  him 
hasty. 

I  expects  it  was  the  prospects  of  gettin'  rung 
into  a  rough  and  tumble,  and  having  to  ex 
plain  to  mother,  that  changed  Bobby's  mind 
so  sudden.  At  any  rate,  inside  of  a  minute 
more  I'm  wearin'  the  pearl-gray  waistcoat  and 
the  silk-faced  tuxedo,  and  out  I  sails  onto  the 
shiny  floor  of  the  green  and  gold  ballroom  with 
somebody's  pink-costumed  heiress  hangin'  to 
nay  left  arm. 

1 '  One- two-three ;  one- two-three Now ! '  * 

says  she,  countin'  out  the  time  so  I  shouldn't 
make  any  false  start. 

But,  say,  I  didn't  need  that.  Course,  I'm  no 
cotillion  leader,  and  about  all  the  dancin'  I  ever 


RUNG  IN  WITH  GOLD  SPOONERS  173 

done  was  at  chowder  parties  or  in  the  Coney 
Island  halls;  but  who  couldn't  keep  step  to  a 
tune  like  "  Yip-I-Addy  "  played  by  a  twelve- 
piece  goulash  orchestra,  specially  with  such  a 
cracker  jack  partner  as  Miss  Vee  was? 

Could  we  spiel  together?  Why,  say,  we  just 
floats  along  over  the  waxed  maple  boards  like 
a  pair  of  summer  butterflies,  pivotin'  first  one 
way  and  then  the  other,  dodgin'  in  and  out 
among  the  couples,  and  givin'  an  exhibition 
that  had  any  other  performance  on  the  floor 
lookin'  like  a  cripples'  parade. 

First  it  got  into  my  heels,  and  then  it  goes 
to  my  head.  I  didn't  know  whether  I  was 
waltzin',  or  havin'  a  joy  ride  with  some  biplane 
snuffer.  I  wa'n't  sayin'  a  word  in  the  way  of 
language;  but  Miss  Vee  keeps  up  a  string  of 
chatter  and  giggles  that's  enough  for  both. 
You'd  thought  to  see  us,  I  expect,  that  we  was 
carryin'  on  a  real,  rapid-fire,  smart-set  dia 
logue,  when  all  the  while  it  was  only  her  tellin' 
me  how  the  diff'rent  parties  was  actin'  when 
they  first  spotted  her  on  the  floor  with  a  ringer, 
and  how  the  chaperons  were  squintin'  at  us 
through  their  lorgnettes,  tryin'  to  make  out  who 
I  was.  And  the  greatest  shock  I  ever  had  was 
when  the  music  stopped  and  I  fell  about  a  mile 
down  through  rosy  clouds. 

"  Wait!  "  says  Miss  Vee,  squeezin'  my  arm. 
"  There'll  be  an  encore.  My  aunt's  over  there, 


174  TOECHY 

and  she's  just  wild;  but  it  doesn't  matter.1" 

"  You're  a  good  sport,"  says  I,  joinin'  in  the 
hand-clappin'  to  jog  the  orchestra  into  givin' 
us  a  repeat. 

And  just  as  they  starts  up  the  tune  again  I 
happens  to  glance  up  into  the  little  visitors' 
balcony  at  the  end  of  the  ballroom.  Who  do 
you  guess  I  sees  watchin'  us  bug-eyed  and  open- 
mouthed?  Why,  Izzy  Budheimer  and  Miss 
Tessie!  See?  They've  broke  away  from  the 
lady  shirtwaisters  durin'  the  supper  hour  so 
Izzy  can  give  his  new  girl  a  glimpse  of  what 
a  real  swell  dance  is  like.  Maybe  he  planned 
on  stoppin'  in  at  the  cloakroom  too,  and  seein' 
if  I  was  holdin'  down  the  job  proper. 

Anyway,  I  can't  blame  him  for  doin'  the 
open-face  act  when  he  discovers  me  out  on  the 
floor  with  the  belle  of  the  ball.  But  all  I  has 
time  to  do  is  send  him  up  the  chilly  stare,  and 
away  we  go  again  into  another  one-two-three 
dream — me  and  Miss  Vee. 

"  I  don't  care  what  becomes  of  me,"  she 
hums  over  my  shoulder. 

"  Me  either,"  says  I. 

"Silly  boy!"  says  she.  "What's  your 
name?  " 

"  Just  Torchy,"  says  I,  "  after  my  hair." 

"  I  think  curly  red  hair  is  cute,"  says  she. 

"  I  could  go  hoarse  sayin'  things  like  that 
about  you,"  says  I. 


Maybe  it  was  lucky,  too,  that  this  second  in 
stallment  was  short,  or  I  might  have  gone  clean 
mushy;  for  the  way  she  could  look  at  me  out 
of  them  big  gray  eyes  of  hers  was — well,  it  was 
the  real  thing  in  thrills.  The  wind-up  came  just 
as  we  gets  around  near  the  cloakroom  door  and 
we  stops. 

"  It  was  awfully  good  of  you,"  says  she. 

' '  Gee !  ' '  says  I.  '  *  Why,  I  could  wear  out 
all  my  old  shoes  doin'  that,  and  if  ever  you 
need " 

"  S-s-sh!  "  says  she.  "Here  comes  my 
aunt!" 

Not  waitin'  for  any  further  diagram  of  the 
situation,  I  makes  a  dash  into  the  cloakroom, 
where  I  finds  Izzy  Budheimer  gazin'  puzzled 
at  Bobby,  who's  sittin'  tilted  back  in  his  shirt 
sleeves  with  the  braided  coat  slung  on  the  floor. 

"  Look  here,  Torchy!  "  begins  Izzy.  "  What 
the " 

"  On  the  job,  Izzy,  if  you  want  to  save  it!  ': 
says  I,  wigglin'  out  of  Master  Bobby's  ex 
pensive  clothes  and  chuckin'  'em  at  him. 

"  But  why — what "  says  Izzy,  tryin' 

again. 

"  Don't  stop  to  ask  fool  questions  of  a  busy 
society  man,"  says  I;  "  but  jump  into  your 
uniform,  get  in  your  coop  there,  and  prepare 
to  put  the  timelock  on  your  conversation  works. 
In  about  a  minute  there'll  be  a  delegation  of 


176  TOECHY 

old  hens  in  here  lookin'  for  a  mysterious  young 
gent  with  incendiary  hair  who  has  disappeared. 
Your  cue  is  to  look  innocent  and  not  know  any 
thing  about  it.  See?  If  there's  any  explainin' 
to  be  done,  let  Bobby  do  it." 

"  Oh,  I  say!  "  groans  Bobby,  jumpin'  up, 
and  by  the  time  I've  struck  the  bottom  stair 
on  my  way  out  he's  grabbed  his  overcoat  and 
is  beatin'  it  down  to  find  his  carriage. 

How  Miss  Vee  squared  it  with  Aunty  is  a 
puzzle  I  never  expect  to  find  out  the  answer  to ; 
but  I'll  risk  her.  She's  a  pink  queen,  she  is, 
and  after  that  one  waltz  with  her  I  can  look 
cold-eyed  at  a  row  of  Tessie  girls  stretchin' 
from  here  to  the  Battery! 


LANDING  ON   A  SIDE   STEEET 

IT  was  a  little  matter  between  me  and  Mother 
Sykes  that  starts  me  off  to  hunt  a  new  boardin* 
place.  Lovely  old  girl,  Mother  Sykes  is,  one 
of  the  kind  that  calls  everybody  "  Deary  "  and 
collects  in  advance  every  Saturday  night.  She's 
got  one  of  them  inquisitive  landlady  noses  that 
looks  like  it  was  made  for  pryin'  up  trunk  cov 
ers  and  pokin'  into  bureau  drawers. 

That  don't  bother  me  any,  though.  It's  only 
when  I  misses  my  swell  outfit,  the  one  Benny 
had  built  for  me  to  wear  at  his  weddin',  that 
I  gets  sore.  Course,  she'd  only  borrowed  it 
for  Pa  Sykes  to  wear  on  a  Sunday  afternoon 
call,  him  bein'  a  little  runt  of  a  gent,  with  wa 
tery  eyes  and  a  red  nose,  that  never  does  any 
thing  on  his  own  hook.  And  if  he  hadn't  de 
nied  it  so  brassy  I  shouldn't  have  called  him 
down  so  hard,  right  in  the  front  hall  with  half 
the  roomers  listenin'. 

"  Dreamed  it,  eh,  did  I!  "  says  I.  "  Well, 
listen  here,  Sykesy !  Next  time  I  has  an  optical 
illusion  of  you  paradin'  out  in  any  of  my 

177 


178  TOECHY1 

uniform,  there'll  be  doin's  before  the  Ser 
geant!  " 

Then  Mother  Sykes  rushes  up  from  the 
kitchen  and  saves  the  fam'ly  honor  by  throwin' 
an  indignation  fit.  I  don't  know  how  long  it 
lasted;  but  she  was  gettin'  purple  clear  up  un 
der  her  false  front  when  I  slid  out  the  door 
and  left  her  at  it.  Next  day  I  noticed  the  sign 
hung  up;  but  I  didn't  know  which  sky  parlor 
was  vacant  until  I  strolls  in  at  five-fifteen  Fri 
day  night  and  finds  my  things  out  in  the  hall 
and  a  new  lodger  in  my  room. 

"  Oh,  well,"  says  I,  "  what's  a  sudden  move 
now  and  then  to  a  free  lance  like  me?  " 

And  as  there  ain't  anybody  in  sight  to  reg 
ister  my  fond  farewells  with,  I  gathers  up  my 
suitcase  and  laundry  bag,  chucks  the  latchkey 
on  the  stand  in  the  front  hall,  and  beats  it.  Not 
until  I'm  three  blocks  away  does  I  remember 
that  all  the  cash  I've  got  in  my  clothes  is  three 
quarters  and  a  dime,  which  comes  of  my  lis- 
tenin'  to  Mallory's  advice  about  soakin'  my  roll 
away  in  a  bloomin'  savings  bank. 

"  Looks  like  I'd  spend  the  night  in  a  Mills 
hotel,"  says  I,  "  unless  I  find  Mallory  and 
make  a  touch." 

It  was  chasin'  him  up  that  fetches  me  over 
on  the  West  Side  and  through  one  of  them 
nice,  respectable,  private-house  blocks  just  be 
low  14th-st.  You  know  the  kind,  that  begin 


LANDING  ON  A  SIDE  STREET     179 

at  Fifth-ave.  with  a  double-breasted  old  brown- 
stone,  and  end  at  Sixth  with  a  delicatessen 
shop. 

"Well,  I  was  moseyin'  along  quiet  and  peace 
ful,  wonderin'  how  long  since  anything  ever 
really  happened  in  that  partic'lar  section,  when 
all  of  a  sudden  I  feels  about  a  cupful  of  cold 
water  strike  me  in  the  back  of  the  neck. 

11  Wow!  "  says  I.  "  Who's  playin'  me  for 
a  goat  now?  " 

With  that  I  turns  and  inspects  the  windows 
of  the  house  I'd  just  passed,  knowin'  it  must 
be  some  kid  gettin'  gay  with  the  passersby. 
There 's  no  signs  of  any  cut-up  concealed  behind 
the  lace  curtains,  though,  and  none  of  the  sashes 
was  raised.  If  it  hadn't  been  for  the  way  things 
had  been  comin'  criss-cross  at  me,  I  suppose 
I'd  wiped  off  my  collar  and  gone  along,  lettin' 
it  pass  as  a  joke;  but  I  wa'n't  feelin'  very 
mirthful  just  then.  I'm  ready  to  follow  up 
anything  in  the  trouble  line;  so  I  steps  into 
the  area,  drops  my  baggage,  shins  up  over  the 
side  of  the  front  steps,  and  flattens  myself 
against  the  off  side  of  the  vestibule  door.  Then 
I  waits. 

It  ain't  more'n  a  minute  before  I  hears  the 
door  openin'  cautious,  and  all  I  has  to  do  is 
shove  my  foot  out  and  throw  my  weight  against 
the  knob.  Somebody  lets  out  a  howl  of  sur 
prise,  and  in  another  minute  I'm  inside,  facin' 


180  TOECHY 

a  twelve-year-old  kid  armed  with  a  green  tin 
squirt  gun.  He's  one  of  these  aristocratic- 
lookin'  youngsters,  with  silky  light  hair,  big 
dark  eyes,  and  a  sulky  mouth.  Also  he's  had 
somethin'  of  a  scare  thrown  into  him  by  being 
caught  so  unexpected ;  but  some  of  his  nerve  is 
still  left. 

' '  You — you  get  out  of  here !  "  he  snarls. 

"  Not  until  you've  had  a  dose  of  what  you 
handed  me,  sonny,"  says  I.  "  Give  it  up  now, 
Reggie  boy!  " 

"  I  won't!  "  says  he.  "  I — I'll  have  you 
thrown  out!  " 

"  You  will,  eh?  "  says  I,  makin'  a  rush  for 
him. 

"  0-o-o-oh,  Aunty,  Aunty!  "  he  squeals, 
dashin'  down  the  hall. 

Now,  say,  the  way  I  was  feelin'  then,  I'd 
have  gone  up  against  a  whole  fam'ly,  big 
brothers  included;  so  a  little  thing  like  a  call 
for  Aunty  don't  stop  me  at  all.  As  he  turns 
into  the  room  on  the  left  I'm  only  a  jump  be 
hind,  and  all  that  fetches  me  up  is  when  he 
does  a  dive  behind  an  old  lady  in  a  big  leather 
chair.  She's  a  wide,  heavy  old  party,  with  a 
dinky  white  cap  on  her  white  hair,  and  kind  of 
a  resigned,  patient  look  on  her  face.  Some 
way,  she  acts  like  she  was  more  or  less  used 
to  surprises  like  this;  for  she  don't  seem  much 
excited. 


LANDING  ON  A  SIDE  STREET     181 

"  Why,  Hadley!  "  she  remarks.  "  Whatever 
is  the  matter  now?  " 

"  He — he  chased  me  into  the  house!  "  whines 
Master  Hadley  from  behind  the  chair. 

"  Did  you?  "  says  the  old  girl. 

"  Sure,"  says  I.    "He's  too  blamed  fresh!  " 

"  There,  there!  "  says  she.  "  You  mustn't 
speak  that  way  of  Hadley.  He  is  only  a  little 
boy,  you  know." 

"  Yes'm,"  says  I. 

"  And  he  was  only  indulging  in  innocent 
play,"  she  goes  on.  "  Come,  Hadley,  untie  me 
now.  Please,  Hadley!  " 

Say,  I  hadn't  noticed  it  before,  but  the  old 
girl  is  roped  solid,  feet  and  arms,  to  the  chair 
legs,  and  it's  clear  that  when  nobody  was  goin' 
by  for  little  Hadley  to  shoot  at  he'd  been  usin' 
Aunty  for  a  target.  The  damp  spots  on  the 
wall  behind  the  chair  and  one  or  two  on  her 
dress  showed  that. 

"  I  won't,  unless  you'll  call  Maggie  and  have 
her  throw  him  out!  "  growls  Hadley. 

' '  Oh,  come,  Hadley,  be  a  good  boy !  ' '  coaxes 
Aunty. 

"  Sha'n't!  "  says  Hadley.  "  And  next  time 
I'll  shoot  ink  at  you." 

"  Now,  Hadley!  "  protests  Aunty. 

"  Excuse  me,  lady,"  says  I,  "  but  it  looks 
to  me  like  there  was  something  comin'  to  Had 
ley  that  I  ought  to  tend  to.  This  ain't  on  my 


182  TOECHY 

account,  either,  but  yours.  Now  watch.  Hi, 
freshy!  "  and  I  makes  another  dash  for  him. 

Well,  he  knows  the  lay  of  the  land  better 'n  I 
do,  and  he's  quick  on  the  dodge,  so  we  has  a 
lively  time  of  it  for  a  couple  of  minutes,  him 
thro  win'  chairs  in  my  way  and  hurdlin'  sofas, 
Aunty  beggin'  us  to  quit  and  callin'  for  Mag 
gie,  and  me  keepin'  right  on  the  job.  But  at 
last  I  got  him  cornered.  He  makes  a  desp  'rate 
duck  and  tries  to  butt  me;  but  I  catches  his 
head  under  my  arm  and  down  he  goes  on  the 
rug.  I'd  just  yanked  the  squirt  gun  out  of  his 
hand  and  was  emptyin'  it  down  the  back  of  his 
neck,  with  him  hollerin'  blue  murder,  and  Aunty 
strugglin'  to  get  loose,  when  the  front  door 
opens  and  in  walks  a  couple  of  ladies,  one  old 
and  the  other  young. 

And,  say,  you  talk  about  your  excitin'  tab 
leaux!  In  about  two  shakes  there's  all  kinds 
of  excitement;  for  it  seems  one  of  the  new  ar 
rivals  is  Hadley's  mommer,  and  she  proceeds 
to  join  the  riot. 

"  Oh,  my  darling  boy!  My  darling!  "  she 
sings  out.  "  What  is  happening?  He  is  being 
killed !  Oh,  he  is  being  killed !  ' ' 

"  G'wan!  "  says  I,  gettin'  up  and  exhibiiin* 
the  squirt  gun.  "  I  was  only  handin'  him  some 
of  the  same  sport  he's  been  dealin'  out  to  oth 
ers.  It'll  do  him  good." 

"  You — you  young  scoundrel!"  says  mom- 


LANDING  ON  A  SIDE  STREET     183 

mer.  Then,  turnin'  to  the  old  lady  who  came 
in  with  her,  she  gasps  out, ' '  Zenobia,  telephone 
for  the  police!  " 

It's  the  real  thing,  too,  and  no  flossy  bluff 
about  the  lady 's  grouch.  She 's  a  swell,  haughty- 
lookin'  party,  and  she  acts  like  she  was  used 
to  havin'  her  own  way  about  things.  So  the 
prospects  begin  to  look  squally.  Not  that  I'm 
one  to  curl  up  and  shiver  at  sight  of  a  cop. 
Give  me  plenty  of  room  to  do  the  hotfoot  act, 
and  I  don't  mind  guyin'  any  of  them  pavement- 
pounders  ;  but  with  me  shut  up  in  a  house  where 
I  hadn't  been  invited  in,  and  a  bunch  of  ex 
cited  females  as  witnesses  against  me,  it's  a 
diff'rent  proposition.  This  was  no  time  to 
weaken,  though. 

"  Go  ahead,"  says  I.  "  Double  six-0-four- 
two  Gramercy;  that's  the  green  light  number 
for  this  district.  And  Uncle  Patrick '11  be  glad 
to  see  you.  Tell  him  you  got  charges  to  make 
on  his  nephew.  That'll  tickle  him  to  death. 
Maybe  I'll  have  something  to  say  when  we  all 
get  there,  too." 

"  What  do  you  mean?  "  says  Hadley's 
mother. 

"  Counter  complaint,  that's  all,"  says  I. 
"  Your  little  darling  soaked  me  first." 

"  It — it  isn't  true!  "  says  she.  "  I  don't  be 
lieve  it!  " 

And  here  Zenobia  comes  in  with  the  soothin* 


184  TOKCHY 

advice.  She's  another  whitehaired  old  lady, 
lookin'  something  like  the  one  in  the  chair,  only 
not  so  bulky  and  with  more  ginger  about  her. 
"  Now,  Sally,"  says  she,  "  let's  not  talk  of 
calling  in  the  police  over  a  trifle.  Hadley 
doesn't  appear  to  be  hurt,  and  possibly  he  was 
somewhat  at  fault." 

"  The  idea !  "  says  Sally.  "  Why,  I  saw  this 
young  ruffian  pommeling  him.  And  look! 
Martha  is  bound  in  her  chair.  He's  a 
burglar!  ' 

Oh,  they  had  a  great  debate  amongst  'em, 
Aunt  Martha  fin'lly  admittin'  it  was  just  a  lit 
tle  prank  of  Hadley 's,  her  being  roped  down; 
but  she  was  sure  I  had  tried  to  murder  him, 
just  for  nothing  at  all.  Hadley  says  so  too. 
In  fact,  he  tells  seven  different  yarns  in  as 
many  minutes,  each  one  makin'  me  out  worse 
than  the  last. 

"  There!  "  says  his  mother.  "  Now,  Zeno- 
bia,  will  you  send  for  an  officer?  ' 

Nope,  Zenobia  wouldn't;  anyway,  not  until 
she  had  more  facts  to  go  on.  She  don't  deny 
that  maybe  I'm  kind  of  a  suspicious-lookin' 
character,  and  says  it  ain't  been  explained  what 
I  was  doin'  in  there  holdin'  little  Hadley  on 
the  rug;  but  she  don't  want  to  ring  up  the 
cops  unless  it's  a  clear  case. 

"  You  know,  my  dear,"  she  winds  up  with, 
"  Hadley  is  quite  apt  to  get  into  trouble." 


LANDING  ON  A  SIDE  STREET     185 

"  Zenobia  Preble!  "  snorts  Sally,  her  eyes 
blazin'.  "  And  lie  your  own  flesh  and  blood! 
Come,  precious,  mother  will  take  you  home, 
and  you  shall  never,  never  come  to  this  house 
again!  ': 

"  There,  Sally,"  begins  Zenobia,  "  don't  fly 
into  a— 

"  When  my  husband's  mother  chooses 
to  insult  me  in  her  own  home,"  says 
Sally,  "  I  hope  I  have  spirit  enough  to 
resent  it!  ' 

Say,  she  had  that  and  some  left  over.  In 
side  of  two  minutes  she's  hustled  little  Had- 
ley  into  his  things,  and  out  they  sails  to  her 
carriage,  leavin'  the  makin's  of  a  first-class 
fam'ly  row  all  prepared. 

In  the  meantime  Zenobia  is  tyin'  Aunt 
Martha  loose,  and  I'm  standin'  around  waitin' 
to  see  what's  goin'  to  happen  to  me  next. 
Course,  I  expects  the  third  degree;  but  she  be 
gins  with  Martha. 

"  Now  what  mischief  was  Hadley  up  to  this 
time!  "  she  asks. 

And  Martha  sticks  to  it  that  it  was  nothing 
at  all.  He  merely  found  that  old  plant-sprayer 
and  discovered  that  by  unscrewing  the  nozzle 
it  made  a  fine  squirt  gun.  To  be  sure,  she  had 
asked  him  not  to  use  the  water  from  the  gold 
fish  globe;  but  he  just  would.  Also  he'd  in 
sisted  on  locking  all  the  servants  downstairs, 


186  TOBCHY 

and  when  she  tried  to  amuse  him  in  other  ways 
he'd  tied  her  to  the  chair. 

But  it  was  just  Hadley's  innocent  fun.  He 
hadn't  harmed  anyone,  even  if  he  did  squirt  a 
little  water  on  the  postman  and  a  delivery  boy. 
She  had  not  minded  it  herself,  and  no  one  had 
been  rude  to  him  until  I'd  come  chasing  in  and 
handled  him  so  rough.  That  was  an  outrage, 
and  Martha  thought  I  ought  to  get  a  life  sen 
tence  for  it. 

''Humph!"  says  Zenobia,  turnin'  to  me. 
"  Now,  young  man,  what  have  you  got  to 
say?  " 

"  Ah,  what's  the  use?  "  says  I.  "  You've 
got  the  whole  story  now.  I'd  do  the  same 
again." 

"  Belying  on  the  fact  that  your  uncle  is  a 
police  captain?  "  says  she. 

"  Nah,"  says  I.    "  That  was  hot  air." 

11  There,  Zenobia!  "  says  Martha.  "  I  told 
you  he  was  a  bad  boy. ' ' 

"  Are  you?  "  says  Zenobia. 

"  Well,"  says  I,  "  that  all  depends  on  how 
you  size  me  up.  I  ain't  in  the  crook  class,  nor 
I  don't  wear  any  Sunday-school  medals, 
either." 

"  Who  are  you?  "  says  she. 

"  Why,  just  Torchy,"  says  I.  "  See — torch, 
Torchy,"  and  I  points  to  my  sunset  coiffure. 

' '  But  who  are  your  parents  ?  ' '  she  goes  on. 


LANDING  ON  A  SIDE  STEEET     187 


"  Don't  own  any,"  says  I.  "  I'm  a  double 
orphan  and  rustlin'  for  myself." 

"  Where  do  you  live?  "  says  she. 

"  Why,"  says  I,  "  I  don't  live  anywhere  just 
now.  I'm  movin';  but  I  don't  know  where 
to." 

"  I  suppose  that  is  either  impudence  or  epi 
gram,"  says  she;  "  but  never  mind.  Perhaps 
you  will  tell  me  where  you  work?  " 

"  I  don't  work  at  all,"  says  I.  ''I'm  head 
office  boy  for  the  Corrugated  Trust,  and  it's  a 
cinch  job." 

"  Indeed!  "  says  she.  "  The  Corrugated 
Trust?  Let  me  see,  who  is  at  the  head  of  that 
concern?  " 

11  Say,"  says  I,  "  you  don't  mean  you  never 
heard  of  Old  Hickory  Ellins  or  Mr.  Eobert,  do 
you?  " 

She  kind  of  smiles  at  that;  but  dodges  makin' 
any  answer. 

"  Well,"  says  I,  "  do  I  get  pinched,  or  just 
given  the  run?  Either  way,  I've  got  some  bag 
gage  down  by  the  area  door  that  ought  to  be 
looked  after." 

"  Why,  certainly,  I  will  have  it —  '  then 
she  stops  and  looks  me  over  sort  of  shrewd. 
"  Suppose,"  she  starts  in  again,  "  you  go  and 
get  it  yourself?  " 

"  Sure!  "  says  I,  and  it  ain't  until  I'm  out 
side  that  I  sees  this  is  just  her  way  of  tryin' 


188  TORCHY 

me  out;  for  I  has  a  fine  chance  to  beat  it. 
"  Nix!  "  thinks  I.  "I  might  as  well  see  this 
thing  through  and  get  a  decision."  So  back 
I  goes  with  the  suitcase  and  laundry  bag.  She 
hadn't  even  followed  me  to  the  door. 

"  Ah!  "  says  she,  lookin*  up.  "  You  weren't 
afraid  to  come  back,  then.  Why?  " 

"  Oh,  I  guess  it  was  because  I  banked  on 
your  givin'  me  a  square  deal,"  says  I. 

That  gets  a  grin  out  of  her.  "  Thank  you 
very  much  for  the  compliment,"  says  she.  "  I 
may  say  that  the  inquisition  is  over.  However, 
I  should  like  to  have  you  remain  a  little  longer, 
if  you  care  to.  Won't  you  leave  your  things 
in  the  hall  there!  Your  hat  and  overcoat 
too." 

"  Zenobia,"  says  Martha,  wakin'  up, 
"  surely  you  are  not  going  to— 

"  Precisely,"  says  Zenobia.  "  I  am  going  to 
ask  him  to  stay  for  dinner  with  us.  Will  you?  ' 

' '  Yep !  ' '  says  I.  "I  never  let  any  free  eats 
get  by  me." 

"  But,"  gasps  Martha,  "  you  don't  know  who 
he  is?  " 

"  Neither  does  he  know  us,"  says  Zenobia. 
"  Torchy,  I  am  Mrs.  Zenobia  Preble.  This  is 
my  sister,  Miss  Martha  Hadley.  She  is  very 
good,  I  am  very  wicked,  and  we  are  both 
women  of  mature  years.  You  will  probably 
find  our  society  rather  dull;  but  the  dinner  is 


LANDING  ON  A  SIDE  STEEET     189 

likely  to  be  fairly  good.  Besides,  I  am  feeling 
somewhat  indebted  to  you." 

"  It's  a  go,"  says  I,  "  if  I  can  have  a  chance 
to  wash  up  first." 

"  Of  course,"  says  she.  Then  she  gives  me 
a  key  and  directions  how  to  find  a  certain  door 
on  the  third  floor.  "  My  son's  quarters,"  she 
goes  on,  "  that  I  have  kept  just  as  he  left 
them  twenty  years  ago.  I  shall  expect  you  to 
make  yourself  quite  at  home  there." 

Do  I?  Why,  say,  it's  a  bach  joint  such  as 
you  might  dream  about:  two  rooms  and  bath 
across  the  front  of  the  house,  guns  and  swords 
and  such  knickknacks  on  the  walls,  a  desk,  a 
lot  of  books,  and  even  a  bathrobe  and  slippers 
laid  out.  Say,  while  I  was  scrubbin'  off  some 
of  the  inkstains  and  smoothin'  down  my  hair 
with  the  silver-backed  brushes  I  felt  like  a 
young  blood  gettin'  ready  for  a  party. 

Then  after  awhile  I  strolls  down  to  the 
lib'ry  and  makes  myself  to  home  some  more. 
It's  a  comf 'table  place,  with  lots  of  big  easy- 
chairs,  nice  pictures  on  the  wall,  and  no  end 
of  bookshelves.  The  old  ladies  has  cleared  out, 
not  even  lockin'  up  any  of  the  curios  or  sendin' 
a  maid  to  watch  me. 

And  when  it  comes  to  the  feed — why,  say, 
it's  a  reg'lar  course  dinner,  such  as  you'd  put 
up  a  dollar  for  at  any  of  these  high-class  table 
dotty  ranches.  Funny  old  china  they  had  too, 


190  TORCHY 

and  a  big  silver  coffeepot  right  on  the  table. 
The  only  bad  break  I  makes  is  just  at  the  start, 
when  I  dives  into  the  soup  without  noticin'  that 
Aunt  Martha  has  her  head  down  and  is  mum- 
fjlin'  something  about  bein'  thankful. 

"  Never  mind,"  says  Mrs.  Preble.  "  We 
aren't  included  in  this,  anyway." 

That  begins  the  talk.  I  ain't  put  through  the 
wringer,  you  understand,  but  just  follows  Zeno- 
bia  while  she  goes  from  one  thing  to  another, 
givin'  her  opinions  of  'em  and  now  and  then 
callin'  for  mine.  We  got  real  chatty  too,  and 
once  in  awhile  she  stops  to  laugh  real  hearty, 
though  I  couldn't  see  where  I'd  got  off  any 
crack  at  all. 

Near  as  I  can  make  out,  Zenobia  is  a  lively 
old  girl  for  her  age.  She's  seen  all  the  best 
Broadway  shows,  knows  what's  goin'  on  in 
town,  and  reads  the  papers  reg'lar.  Also  it 
comes  out  that  she  don't  follow  the  kind  of 
programme  you  generally  look  for  antiques  to 
stick  to.  She  ain't  got  any  use  for  churches, 
charity  institutions,  society,  or  the  suffragettes. 
All  of  which  seems  to  shock  Sister  Martha,  who 
don't  say  much,  but  only  shudders  now  and 
then. 

"  You  see,  Torchy,"  says  Zenobia,  droppin' 
two  lumps  into  her  demitasse,  1 1  I  am  an  un 
believer.  I  don't  even  believe  in  growing  old. 
When  I  hear  of  other  persons  who  have  come 


LANDING  ON  A  SIDE  STREET     191 

to  disbelieve  in  established  things,  no  matter 
what,  I  send  for  them  and  find  out  all  about  it 
across  the  dinner  table.  We  discuss  art,  re 
ligion,  politics,  goodness  knows  what.  We  de 
nounce  things,  from  the  existing  social  order, 
to  the  tariff  on  stockings.  My  sister,  who  be 
lieves  in  everything  as  it  is,  usually  takes  a 
nap  and  snores." 

"  Zenobia!  "  says  Martha. 

11  Oh,  not  in  a  disturbing  way,"  says  Zeno 
bia.  "  And  I'm  sure  I  almost  do  the  same 
whenever  your  friend  the  rector  is  here. 
Torchy,  have  you  ever  been  talked  to  about 
your  soul?  ' 

"  Once  when  I  drifted  into  a  mission  a  guy 
sprung  that  on  me,"  says  I. 

"  Yes?  "  says  Zenobia.    "  What  then!  " 

"  I  told  him  to  go  chase  himself,"  says  I. 

Hearty  chuckles  from  Zenobia,  while  Sister 
Martha  turns  pale  and  gasps. 

Next  thing  I  know  I'm  tellin'  Mrs.  Preble 
about  my  fallin'  out  with  Mother  Sykes,  and 
how  I  guess  I'd  better  be  pikin'  up  to  engage 
a  thirty-cent  room  until  I  can  draw  on  my  re 
serve  and  locate  a  new  boardin'  place. 

And,  say,  what  do  you  guess  that  conversa 
tion  leads  up  to!  Well,  it  struck  me  all  in 
a  heap  at  the  time,  though  I  didn't  let  on;  but 
I  couldn't  figure  out  the  answer  until  I'd  had 
a  talk  with  Mr.  Robert  next  day. 


192  TOECHY 

"  Say,  Mr.  Eobert,"  says  I.  "  You  don't 
happen  to  know  an  old  party  by  the  name  of 
Zenobia  Preble,  do  you?  " 

"  I  do,"  says  he.  "  It  isn't  exactly  an  ac 
cident,  either.  She  is  a  cousin  of  my  father." 

"  Gee!  "  says  I.  "  Cousin  to  the  old — to 
the  boss !  Wh-e-ew !  ' ' 

1 '  Eather  an  original  old  lady,  Zenobia, ' '  says 
Mr.  Eobert.  "  And  I  understand,  from  a  talk 
I  had  with  her  over  the  'phone  early  last  even 
ing,  that  she  was  arbitrating  the  case  of  a 
young  man  who  was  in  some  danger  of  arrest 
in  her  home.  How  did  it  come  out,  Torchy?  " 

"  Ah,  say,  you're  on,  ain't  you?  "  says  I. 
"  Well,  it  was  a  verdict  for  the  defense,  because 
I  promised  to  do  it  again  if  I  ever  got  the 
chance. ' ' 

Mr.  Eobert  grins.  "  That  grandson  of  hers 
is  certainly  a  holy  terror, ' '  says  he.  * '  You  and 
Zenobia  parted  friends,  then?  ' 

"  Not  yet,"  says  I.  "  We  ain't  parted  at 
all.  I'm  stayin'  as  a  trial  boarder." 

"  What!  "  says  he,  sittin'  up.  "  Oh,  I  see. 
An  experiment  in  practical  sociology,  eh?  ' 

"  Maybe  that's  it,"  says  I.  "  Anyway,  it 
depends  on  whether  or  not  I  can  stand  Aunt 
Martha." 

And  when  I  leaves  Mr.  Eobert  he  still  has 
his  mouth  open. 


CHAPTER  XIII 

FIRST   AID   FOR  THE   MAIN   STEM 

WELL,  I  ain't  been  adopted  yet;  but  it's  the 
next  thing  to  it.  Me  and  Zenobia  are  gettin' 
to  understand  each  other  better  every  day. 
And,  say,  for  a  ripe  old  party,  she 's  younger  in 
her  mind  than  lots  of  folks  I  know  who  ain't 
lived  half  so  long.  Maybe  she  did  do  her  first 
travelin'  up  and  down  Broadway  in  a  horse 
stage ;  but  that  ain  't  the  way  she  wants  to  cover 
the  ground  now.  What  do  you  think  she  springs 
at  the  dinner  table  the  other  night?  Says  she's 
goin'  to  the  next  aviation  meet  and  hire  some 
one  to  take  her  up  for  an  aeroplane  ride. 

<  <  Why,  Zenobia !  ' '  says  Sister  Martha,  so 
shocked  her  white  frizzes  almost  stand  up  and 
wiggle. 

That's  Martha's  cue,  all  right.  She  don't 
seem  to  get  used  to  Zenobia 's  ways,  although 
they've  been  livin'  together  all  these  years.  A 
genuine,  consistent  antique,  Sister  Martha  is, 
who  still  likes  to  talk  about  the  time  when 
Horace  Greeley  ran  for  President.  Accordin' 
to  her  conversation  the  last  real  sensation  that 

193 


194  TOKCHY 

came  her  way  was  when  she  went  over  to  Brook 
lyn  and  heard  Henry  Ward  Beecher  preach. 

But  even  Martha  ain't  no  worse  when  you 
.  get  to  know  her.  She 's  a  harmless,  well  meanin' 
old  soul,  and  I'm  'most  beginnin'  to  believe 
she's  pretty  near  as  pious  as  she  thinks  she  is. 
Anyway,  it  ain't  any  Sunday  pose  with  her. 
She  lugs  her  religion  right  through  the  week, 
holidays  and  all,  and  spreads  it  around  even. 
I  got  it  straight  from  Zenobia  that  Martha's 
even  begun  ringin'  me  into  her  good 
night  prayers,  along  with  the  cook  and 
the  President. 

Also  Martha  has  started  in  on  what  she  calls 
my  moral  trainin',  which  she  dopes  out  as 
havin'  been  neglected  somethin'  shameful. 
Whenever  Zenobia  ain't  around  to  interrupt,  I 
get  a  Jonah  story,  or  a  Sampson  and  Delilah 
hair  cuttin'  yarn  pumped  into  me,  and  if  there 
ain't  any  cogs  missin'  in  her  scheme  I  ought 
to  be  buddin'  a  soul  before  long. 

11  Torchy,"  says  she  real  solemn  the  other 
night, ' '  I  hope  you  do  not  use  profane  language. 
Do  you?  " 

"  Well,"  says  I,  "  when  I  was  on  the  Sunday 
editor's  door  I  did  used  to  think  I  could  put 
over  a  few  gingery  ones;  but  since  I've  been 
with  the  Corrugated  Trust  I've  kind  of  got  out 
of  practice." 

"  Ah!  "  says  she,  beamin'.    "  That  is  good, 


FIRST  AID  FOR  THE  MAIN  STEM   195 

very  good !  Your  associations  are  better ;  is  that 
it?" 

"  Mainly  it's  on  account  of  Mr.  Ellins,"  says 
I.  "  Maybe  you  never  happened  to  hear  him; 
but,  say,  you  ought  to  be  there  some  mornin' 
when  he  limps  in  with  the  gout  in  both  feet  and 
a  hang-over  grouch  from  the  day  before !  Cuss ! 
Why,  after  listenin'  to  him  grow  real  enthusi 
astic  once,  I  got  discouraged.  What's  the  use? 
thinks  1." 

Well,  someway  that  gives  Martha  an  awful 
jolt;  for  maybe  you  remember  my  tellin'  how 
it  turns  out  that  her  and  Zenobia  are  second 
cousins  to  Old  Hickory.  She  says  how  she's 
pained  and  mortified  beyond  words  to  learn  that 
Mr.  Ellins  should  allow  his  employees  to  hear 
him  use  such  language. 

"  Ah,  that's  all  right,"  says  I.  "  As  long 
as  it  ain't  fired  at  'em,  nobody  feels  bad.  Mostly 
they  grins,  except  now  and  then  a  new  lady 
typewriter  who  squirms  and  turns  pale.  He 
don't  whisper  when  he's  cussin',  Mr.  Ellins 
don't." 

' '  Shocking !  ' '  says  Sister  Martha.  * '  Does — 
does  he  do  this  often?  " 

"  It  all  depends  on  how  he's  feelin',"  says  I; 
"  but  for  the  past  week  or  ten  days  he's  been 
at  it  pretty  reg'lar.  I  expect  he's  been  havin' 
a  worse  siege  than  usual." 

Oh,  me  and  Martha  had  a  real  heart  to  heart 


196  TOBCHY 

talk  that  night,  and  when  I  fin'lly  goes  up  to 
my  top  floor  suite  I  leaves  her  fannin'  herself 
and  gaspin'  for  breath.  But  she'd  asked  for 
facts,  and  I'd  handed  'em  over.  How  was  I  to 
guess  what  was  goin'  to  be  the  follow  up  on 
that? 

Not  expectin'  anything  more'n  instructions 
about  some  errand  or  other,  I  ain't  any  dis 
turbed  when  Piddie  comes  up  to  the  gate  desk 
right  after  lunch  next  day,  lookin'  as  stern  and 
solemn  as  if  he'd  been  sent  to  read  a  warrant. 

* '  Boy, ' '  says  he,  *  *  Mr.  Ellins,  senior,  wishes 
to  see  you  in  his  private  office!  " 

"  Well,  that  ain't  surprising  is  it,  Piddie?  " 
says  I.  "  You  don't  suppose  we  can  talk  over 
big  affairs  like  ours  out  here,  do  you?  Keep 
your  ear  off  the  keyhole,  too !  ' '  And  with  that 
I  goes  in  chipper  and  cheerful. 

The  minute  I  gets  through  the  last  door, 
though,  I  feels  the  frost  in  the  air.  Mr.  Ellins, 
he  lets  me  wait  long  enough  for  the  chill  to 
strike  in,  while  he  signs  a  basketful  of  letters. 
Then  he  swings  around  in  his  swivel  chair  and 
proceeds  to  size  me  up  through  them  gunmetal 
gray  eyes  of  his.  Say,  it  was  like  standin'  in 
front  of  a  searchlight  and  under  a  cold  shower, 
all  at  once. 

"  So,  young  man!  "  says  he.  "  You  have 
been  hearing  me  swear,  eh?  ' 

That's  enough  for  me.    Just  from  that  I  can 


sketch  the  whole  plot.  And  it  don't  take  me  a 
month  to  figure  out  the  line  of  talk  I'm  go  in' 
to  use.  What's  the  sense  in  playin'  for  time 
when  your  blue  ticket's  all  made  out. 

"  Heard  you?  "  says  I.  "  Think  I  wear  my 
ears  full  of  putty?  " 

'  *  Huh !  "  he  grunts.  * '  And  do  I  understand 
that  you  disapprove  of  my  profanity?  " 

"  Ah,  who's  been  fillin'  you  up?  "  says  I. 
"  Why,  you're  an  artist  at  it." 

11  Thanks,"  says  he.  "  And  I  suppose  you 
felt  it  your  duty  to  inform  my  relatives  of  the 
fact?  Very  thoughtful  of  you,  I'm  sure." 

"  Don't  mention  it,"  says  I. 

"  You — you're  an  impertinent  young 
whelp!  "  says  he,  his  cheeks  gettin'  purple  and 
puffy. 

"  Ah,  don't  mind  the  frills,"  says  I.  "  Get 
out  the  can.  I'm  fired,  ain't  I?  " 

"  No!  "  he  shouts,  bangin'  his  fist  down  on 
the  desk.  "  At  least,  not  until  I  get  through 
with  you.  What  I  want  to  know  is  why  in  blue 
belted  blazes  you  did  it!  r 

"  Well,"  says  I,  "  first  off  I  guess  it  just 
naturally  slipped  out ;  then,  when  I  saw  what  a 
hit  I  was  makin'  with  Martha — why,  I  expect  I 
sort  of  enjoyed  givin'  her  the  details." 

Somehow,  that  seems  to  graze  his  funnybone, 
and  he  has  a  struggle  to  keep  a  grin  out  of  his 
mouth  corners.  "  Humph!  "  says  he.  "  I — I'd 


198  TOECHY 

like  to  have  seen  her  then.  So  you  went  on  to 
describe  the  general  state  of  my  health,  did 
you?  " 

11  It  was  you  we  was  chattin'  about,"  says  I. 

"  Fascinating  topic,  I've  no  doubt,"  he 
growls ;  ' '  but  I  hardly  appreciate  the  attention. 
Understand?  " 

11  That's  breakin'  on  me  gradual,"  says  I. 

"  Fortunately  for  you,  though,"  he  goes  on, 
"  you  didn't  attempt  to  lie  out  of  it.  By  the 
way,  why  didn't  you?  " 

11  And  her  just  after  givin'  you  the  whole 
game  over  the  'phone?  "  says  I.  "  Ah,  say!  ' 

"  Young  man,"  says  he,  shootin'  over  the 
quizzin'  gaze,  "  either  you  are  too  blickety 
blinked  fresh  to  keep,  or  else  you're  too  keen 
to  lose;  hanged  if  I  know  which!  But — er — 
well,  I'll  take  a  chance.  You  may  go  out  and 
report  to  Mr.  Piddie  for  duty." 

11  It'll  near  break  his  heart,"  says  I. 

It  does,  too.  I  expect  from  what  he'd  heard 
in  the  private  office  that  he  was  figurin'  on 
handin'  me  my  hat  as  I  was  shot  out  and  re- 
markin'  that  he  knew  all  along  it  was  comin' 
to  me.  Then  there 'd  be  a  rollcall  of  new  office 
boys,  with  him  pickin'  out  one  more  to  his  taste 
than  me.  But  no  such  luck  for  him. 

"  Cheer  up,  Piddie,"  says  I.  "I'll  have  the 
warden  send  you  an  invitation  when  they  fin'lly; 
get  me  right." 


FIRST  AID  FOE  THE  MAIN  STEM   199 

Course,  I  don't  make  any  squeal  at  the  house 
about  my  narrow  escape;  for  I  knew  Martha 
only  meant  it  for  the  best.  Next  day  Mr.  Ellins 
don't  show  up  at  the  office  at  all,  and  that 
evenin'  Martha  is  better  posted  on  his  condi 
tion  than  I  am.  She's  been  busy  on  the  wire 
again,  this  time  locatin'  him  at  home. 

11  My  poor  cousin,"  says  she,  "  is  in  a 
wretched  state.  He  has  been  overworking,  I 
fear,  and  seems  to  be  a  nervous  wreck.  That 
will  account,  I  have  no  doubt,  for  his  recent 
lapses  into  profanity.  He  feels  rather  ashamed 
of  himself;  but  perhaps  I  should  make  allow 
ances.  What  he  needs  is  rest  and  quiet.  Luck 
ily,  I  happened  to  know  just  the  place  for  him 
and  was  able  to  persuade  him  to  go  there  at 
once.  He  started  this  afternoon." 

It's  called  the  Wesley  Restorium,  Martha 
says,  and  is  run  by  an  old  friend  of  hers  who 
used  to  be  a  missionary  doctor  in  China.  He's 
an  awfully  good  man,  and  she's  sure  he'll  help 
Mr.  Ellins  a  lot.  Besides,  his  place  is  only 
about  fifty  miles  off,  over  in  North  Jersey;  so 
Mr.  Ellins  could  make  the  run  easy  in  his 
limousine. 

Well,  that  leaves  only  Mr.  Eobert,  Piddie,  and 
me  to  manage  the  Corrugated,  and  we  was  all 
bearin'  up  under  the  load  well  enough  except 
Piddie;  when  along  about  two  o'clock  there's 
a  long  distance  call  from  the  Main  Stem,  and 


200  TOECHY 

a  few  minutes  later  Mr.  Eobert  sends  out  for 
me. 

"  Torchy,"  says  he,  "  you  seem  to  be  elected. 
The  governor  wants  you." 

"  Me?  "  says  I. 

"  Yes,"  says  Mr.  Eobert.  "  I  don't  exactly 
understand  why.  He  is  at  a  sanatorium,  you 
know,  and  we  had  arranged  to  send  up  his  pri 
vate  secretary  with  the  important  mail  this 
afternoon;  but  he  says  he  wants  you.  Says 
you're  responsible  for  his  being  there — what 
ever  that  means." 

"  I'm  on,"  says  I.    "  When  do  I  start?  " 

There's  a  train  at  three-thirty-four;  so  that 
gives  me  time  to  chase  around  to  the  house  after 
a  grip,  then  back  to  the  office  to  gather  up  a 
bundle  of  late  letters,  and  pike  for  Jersey  City. 
And  at  that  it's  five  o'clock  before  I'm  landed 
at  a  little  flag  station  umpteen  miles  beyond 
nowhere.  My !  but  the  north  end  of  Jersey  has 
some  up  and  down  to  it,  though!  From  what 
I'd  heard  I  thought  the  State  was  all  meadows; 
but  here  I  am  carted  in  a  four-horse  bus  up  the 
side  of  a  hill  that's  twice  as  tall  as  the  Metro 
politan  tower. 

Say,  I  never  saw  so  much  country  spread  out 
all  at  once  before — nothing  but  hills  and  trees, 
and  no  signs  of  houses  anywhere.  Made  me  so 
blamed  lonesome  lookin'  at  it  that  I  had  to  shut 
my  eyes  for  a  spell.  And  when  we  gets  to  the 


FIKST  AID  FOE  THE  MAIN  STEM   201 

top  there's  a  big  shack  like  a  new  set  of  car 
barns,  with  hundreds  of  windows,  and  big  wide 
veranda  all  around.  It  looks  as  homy  and  cheer 
ful  as  the  Art  Museum.  The  lawn  is  full  of 
rocks  and  stumps,  and  the  few  little  flower 
beds  that  have  been  laid  out  looked  lost  and 
homesick. 

Pacin'  up  and  down  the  verandas,  like  animals 
in  a  cage,  was  about  fifty  people,  and  over  at 
one  end,  all  by  himself,  looms  up  Old  Hickory, 
lookin'  big  and  ugly  and  disgusted  with  life. 

"  Well!  "  he  growls.  "  So  you  got  here,  eh? 
Hope  you  like  it  as  well  as  I  do.  Bring  that 
mail  inside." 

While  he's  more  or  less  grouchy,  he  don't 
act  any  more  like  a  nervous  wreck  than  usual. 
I  take  it  that  he  was  some  tired  when  he  got 
up  here  night  before ;  but  that  he  cut  out  dinner 
and  turned  in  for  a  good  twelve-hour  snooze 
instead.  Then  he's  had  a  quiet  day,  and  I  judge 
he  was  a  lot  better  already. 

He's  just  got  well  into  his  letters,  when  an 
attendant  guy  in  a  white  duck  uniform  steps 
in  and  taps  him  on  the  shoulder. 

"  Well  I  "  says  Old  Hickory. 

11  Vesper  service  is  beginning  in  the  chapel, 
sir,"  says  the  gent. 

"  Let  it  begin,  then,"  says  Mr.  Ellins. 

'  *  But, ' '  says  the  gent,  *  *  it  is  usual  for  guests 
to " 


202  TORCHY 

"  It  isn't  for  me!  "  snaps  Mr.  Ellins.  "  You 
get  out!  " 

And  the  gent  got  out. 

We  could  hear  'em  singin'  hymns  and  so  on 
for  half  an  hour;  but  Mr.  Ellins  keeps  right 
on  goin'  through  his  mail  and  makin'  notes  on 
the  envelops  until  six  o'clock,  when  a  big  gong 
rings. 

11  Thank  heaven!  Dinner!  "  says  he. 
11  Come  on,  Torchy;  I'm  hungry  enough  to  eat 
a  bale  of  hay  1  ' :  Then  he 's  hardly  got  into  his 
chair  in  the  dinin'  room  before  he's  snapping 
his  fingers  for  a  waiter.  "  Hey!  "  he  sings  out. 
"  Bring  me  a  dry  Martini  right  away,  and  a 
pint  of  Chateau  Yquem  with  the  fish. ' ' 

"  Excuse  me,"  says  the  waiter,  "  but  there 
isn't  anything  like  that  on  the  bill  of  fare.  If 
it 's  something  to  drink  you  want,  you  can  order 
buttermilk,  which  is  extra." 

"  Buttermilk!  "  snorts  Old  Hickory.  "  Say, 
where's  the  proprietor?  Send  him  over 
here!  " 

He  didn't  have  to  call  him  twice;  for  the 
boss  of  the  Restorium  had  heard  the  row  and 
was  glidin'  our  way  as  fast  as  his  rubber  heels 
would  let  him.  He's  a  short  legged,  pop  eyed, 
red  faced  party,  wearin'  cute  white  side  whis 
kers,  a  black  Prince  Albert,  and  a  minister's 
necktie. 

"  Gently,  gently,"  says  he,  pattin'  the  air 


FIBST  AID  FOR  THE  MAIN  STEM   203 

with  his  hands  and  puckering  his  mouth.  ' '  Be- 
member  to  speak  softly  in  the  dining  room." 

"  All  right,  Doc,"  says  Mr.  Ellins;  "but  I 
want  a  cocktail." 

"  Tut,  tut,  brother!  "  says  the  Doc,  liftin'  a 
warnin'  finger  and  raisin'  his  eyebrows.  "  No 
intoxicating  liquors  served  here,  you  know. 
Now  a  glass  of  nice  buttermilk  is  just  what— 

'  *  Bah !  Buttermilk !  ' '  snorts  Hickory. 
11  Think  I  come  from  a  dairy?  " 

The  Doc  does  his  best  to  soothe  him  down 
and  fin'lly  persuades  him  to  tackle  his  mutton 
broth  without  the  Martini.  It's  a  good  enough, 
feed;  but  kind  of  plain,  about  what  you'd  get 
in  one  of  these  Eighth-ave.  joints,  four  courses 
for  thirty-five  cents.  Mr.  Ellins  gets  left 
again  when  he  calls  for  a  demitasse  after  the 
tapioca  pudding.  Nothing  doing  in  the  coffee 
line. 

"  Huh!  "  he  grunts.  "  I  suppose  I  may 
smoke,  eh?  " 

"  On  the  north  veranda,  from  seven  until 
eight-fifteen,"  says  the  waiter. 

' '  Well,  I  '11  be— blistered !  ' '  says  Old  Hickory. 

While  he's  burnin'  a  couple  of  black  per- 
fectos  out  on  the  smoke  reservation,  I  roams 
around  the  Bestorium.  It's  furnished  neat  and 
simple,  with  lots  of  varnished  woodwork  and  a 
few  framed  railroad  photos  on  the  walls.  In 
the  parlor  was  four  or  five  groups  of  women 


204  TORCHY 

in  rockin'  chairs,  talkin'  low  and  doin'  fancy- 
work.  Most  of  the  men  were  tiptoein'  up  and 
down  the  veranda.  They  was  a  stoop  shoul 
dered,  dyspeptic  lookin'  lot.  Down  in  the  base 
ment  in  a  place  labeled  "  Recreation  Room,"  a 
couple  of  checker  games  was  in  progress,  and 
four  gents  was  shovin'  weights  up  and  down  the 
shuffleboard.  Yes,  it  was  a  perfectly  good  place 
to  be  quiet  in.  I  could  guess  why  Hickory  El- 
lins  had  begun  to  show  signs  of  bein'  restless. 
By  eight  o'clock  he  comes  marchin'  in  and  up  to 
the  office  desk. 

"  Where's  the  billiard  room?  "  says  he. 

it  There  is  no  billiard  room,  brother,"  says 
the  Doc,  steppin'  to  the  front.  "  Here  we  have 
eliminated  all  of  those  things  that  might  dis 
turb  our  beautiful  peace  and  quiet. ' ' 

"  Have,  eh?  "  grunts  Hickory.  "  Then 
where  can  I  find  three  others  to  make  up  a 
bridge  game?  " 

11  Card  playing,"  says  the  Doc,  putting  his 
thumb  and  forefingers  together,  * '  is  not  allowed 
in  the  Restorium. ' ' 

11  Sorrowing  sisters  by  the  sea!  "  remarks 
Mr.  Ellins.  "No  billiards!  No  cards!  Say, 
what  the  merry  Mithridates  do  you  think  I'm 
going  to  do  with  myself  from  now  until  twelve 
o'clock,  eh?  " 

"  By  referring  to  the  rules  of  this  establish 
ment,  Mr.  Ellins,"  says  the  Doc,  speakin'  cold 


FIEST  AID  FOR  THE  MAIN  STEM   205 

and  reprovin',  "  you  will  see  that  the  general 
retiring  hour  is  fixed  at  nine-thirty.  At  nine- 
forty-five  the  gas  is  all  turned  off. ' ' 

11  What!  "  roars  Hickory.  "  Think  you're 
going  to  put  me  to  bed  at  nine-thirty?  " 

"  You  are  at  liberty  to  sit  up  in  the  dark, 
if  you  choose,"  the  Doc  comes  back  at  him. 
"  Any  guest  who  is  dissatisfied  with  the  manner 
in  which  the  Eestorium  is  conducted  has  the 
option  of  leaving." 

"  "Well,  say!  "  says  Mr.  Ellins,  thumpin'  the 
desk  earnest,  "  I  am  dissatisfied!  Buttermilk 
and  vesper  services!  Huh!  Do  you  suppose 
I've  paid  two  weeks  in  advance  for  such  a  dose! 
Where's  your  'phone?  " 

With  that  he  calls  up  New  York,  gets  his 
chauffeur  on  the  wire,  and  orders  him  to  have 
the  car  here  first  thing  in  the  morning,  even  if 
he  has  to  start  before  light. 

"  And  what  is  more,"  says  Mr.  Ellins,  walkin' 
back  to  the  Doc,  "  I  propose  to  buy  the  rest  of 
this  hill  and  open  a  real  live  hotel  as  close  to 
your  place  as  I  can  put  it.  There'll  be  some 
thing  going  on  in  it  all  the  time,  if  I  have  to 
make  everything  free,  and  you  can  bet  your 
last  dollar  the  wine  list  will  have  something 
beside*  buttermilk  on  it!  There'll  be  billiard 
tables,  fowling  alleys,  a  dance  hall,  and  a  brass 
band  playing  all  night.  I'll  fix  your  beautiful 
peace  and  quiet  for  you !  ' ' 


206  TOECHY 

The  Doc,  lie  smiles  a  kind  of  sanctified  smile 
and  points  to  the  clock.  "  In  just  forty-five 
minutes,"  says  he,  "  the  lights  go  out." 

That's  all  the  satisfaction  Mr.  Ellins  gets, 
too ;  so  he  takes  me  in  tow  and  we  beat  it  'steen 
times  around  the  verandas,  him  stating  his  opin 
ions  of  restoriums  in  general,  Cousin  Martha  in 
partic'lar,  and  now  and  then  shootin'  a  sarcastic 
remark  at  me.  But  when  he  sees  the  other  vic 
tims  begin  sneakin'  off  one  by  one  he  growls 
out: 

11  Well,  son,  I  suppose  they'll  be  locking  us 
out  if  we  don't  follow  suit.  Get  the  keys  to 
our  rooms." 

First  off  I  thought  I  could  have  a  great 
snooze;  but  it's  such  a  blamed  quiet  place  that 
I  found  myself  wide  awake,  with  my  ear 
strained  to  see  if  I  couldn't  hear  something. 
After  an  hour  or  so  of  that,  I  gets  up  and  sits 
by  the  open  window;  but  as  there  ain't  any 
moon  or  any  street  lights,  it's  like  starin'  down 
a  coalhole. 

I  was  wondering  if  the  country  was  always 
as  black  as  that  at  night,  and  what  would  hap 
pen  to  anyone  that  strayed  out  into  it,  when 
all  of  a  sudden  I  hears  a  window  raised,  and 
way  down  in  the  basement  under  the  dining 
room  I  sees  a  bright  light  shinin'  out. 
"  Hello!  "  thinks  I.  "  Some  of  the  help  must 
be  bustin'  the  rules  and  regulations." 


FIRST  AID  FOB  THE  MAIN  STEM   207 

By  leanin'  out  and  rubberin'  I  could  look 
down  into  the  room.  And,  say,  the  shock  almost 
tumbled  me  out.  For  there's  the  Doc  sittin* 
in  his  shirtsleeves  with  four  other  gents  around 
a  green  topped  table  decorated  with  stacks  of 
chips.  The  Doc  is  just  dealin',  and  before  the 
shade  is  pulled  down  again  I  had  time  to  see 
him  reach  under  the  lower  deck  and  haul  up  a 
decanter  that  might  have  been  full  of  cold  tea. 

Well,  say,  I  don't  do  a  thing  but  hustle  into 
my  clothes  and  chase  down  the  corridor  to  Mr. 
Ellins'room.  Is  he  int 'rested  in  the  tale?  He's 
all  of  that. 


. . 


Torchy,"  says  he,  "  if  you  can  lead  me 
down  to  that  game,  I — I'll  forgive  you.  Per 
haps  I'll  do  better  than  that." 

I  used  up  half  a  box  of  matches  findin'  the 
way;  but  at  last  we  located  the  light  comin' 
through  the  transom. 

"  Good  work!  "  he  whispers.  "  Now  you  go 
back  to  bed  and  enjoy  a  long  night's  rest." 

Sure  I  did — not.  I  wouldn't  have  missed 
hearin'  that  exchange  of  happy  greetin's  for  a 
farm.  And  the  way  the  Doc  chokes  up  and 
splutters  tryin'  to  explain  things  was  somethin' 
lovely.  He  was  gettin'  himself  as  twisted  as 
a  pretzel,  when  Old  Hickory  breaks  in. 

"  That's  all  right,  Doc,"  says  he.  "  Innocent 
little  relaxation.  I  understand  perfectly.  Now, 
what's  the  ante?  " 


208  TOBCHY 

Well,  after  that  the  conversation  wasn't  so 
exeitin';  nothing  but,  "  I'll  take  three  cards," 
or  "  Baise  you  two  more  blues."  So  I  sneaks 
back  and  falls  into  the  hay  once  more. 

At  breakfast  Mr.  Ellins  shows  up  more 
smilin'  and  chipper  than  I'd  ever  seen  him  any 
where  before.  He  puts  away  three  soft  boiled 
eggs,  a  couple  of  lamb  chops,  and  two  cups  of 
coffee  made  special  for  him.  The  Doc  he  fol 
lows  us  out  to  the  limousine. 

"  Sorry  to  have  you  go  so  soon,  Mr.  Ellins," 
says  he,  rubbin'  one  hand  over  the  other, 
"  very  sorry  indeed,  sir.  And — er — about 
those  memoranda  from  my  assistants.  I  will 
see  that  they  are  redeemed,  you  know." 

"  Those  I  0  U's I  "  says  Mr.  Ellins.  "  Oh, 
you  tell  the  boys  I  tore  'em  up.  Yours,  too, 
Doctor.  I  had  my  fun  out  of  the  game.  So 
long. ' ' 

And  for  the  next  four  miles  Old  Hickory 
don't  do  much  but  gaze  out  on  the  landscape 
and  chuckle. 

11  Was  that  a  bluff  about  buildin'  that  hotel?  " 
says  I  after  awhile. 

* '  Well, ' '  says  Mr.  Ellins,  * '  not  exactly ;  but 
I  think  I  shall  present  the  Bestorium  with  a 
pipe  organ  instead." 


CHAPTER  XIV 

IN   ON   THE   OOLONG 

COURSE  ft  was  a  cinch;  but  Piddle  ain't  got 
done  wondeHn'  yet  how  I  did  it.  I  can  tell  that 
by  the  puzzled  way  he  has  of  lookin'  me  over 
when  he  thinks  I  ain't  noticin'. 

You  see,  we'd  been  havin'  a  quiet  week  at  the 
Corrugated.  This  fine  spell  of  weather  has 
braced  Old  Hickory  up  until  he  almost  forgets 
how  he's  cast  himself  for  the  great  grouch  col 
lector.  Things  must  have  been  runnin'  smooth, 
too ;  for  he  can  even  read  about  the  Return  from 
Elba  plans  without  chuckin'  the  mornin'  paper 
into  the  waste  basket  and  gettin'  purple  behind 
the  ears. 

Then,  all  of  a  sudden  here  the  other  after 
noon,  Piddie  comes  trottin'  out  of  the  private 
office  all  flustered  up  and  begins  pawin'  excited 
through  the  big  bond  safe.  He's  hardly  got 
started  at  that  before  there  comes  three  rings 
on  the  buzzer  for  him,  and  he  trots  back  to  see 
what  the  old  man  wants  now.  Next  there  are 
hurry  calls  for  the  general  auditor  and  the  head 
of  the  contract  department,  and  before  Mr.  El- 

209 


210  TOECHY 

lins  gets  through  he's  had  every  chief  in  the 
shop  up  on  the  carpet  and  put  'em  through  the 
third  degree.  Way  out  by  my  gate  I  could  hear 
him  layin'  down  the  law  to  'em,  and  they  comes 
out  lookin'  wild  and  worried. 

Which  don't  get  me  excited  any  at  all.  I 
worked  in  the  newspaper  office  too  long  and  saw 
too  many  Sunday  editions  go  to  press  for  that. 
So  when  I  hears  him  yell  for  me  I  don't  jump 
over  the  desk  and  get  goose  flesh  up  the  back. 
I  keeps  right  on  snappin'  rubber  bands  at  the 
spring  water  bottle  until  he's  shouted  a  couple 
more  times.  Then  I  winks  at  the  row  of  lady 
typists  and  strolls  in,  calm  and  easy. 

"  Yes,  sir?  "  says  I. 

* '  See  here,  boy !  ' '  says  he.  ' '  Do  you  happen 
by  any  chance  to  know  where  that  son  of  mine 
might  be  found  at  this  moment?  ' 

"  Mr.  Kobert?  "  says  I.    "  Nix." 

"  No,  of  course  you  don't!  "  says  Old  Hick 
ory,  glarin'  at  me.  "  No  one  around  this  pre 
cious  asylum  for  undeveloped  cerebellums  seems 
to  know  anything  they  ought  to.  Bah!  ' 

"  Yes,  sir,"  says  I. 

"  Don't  grin  at  me  that  way!  "  he  snaps. 
"  Get  out!  No,  stay  where  you  are!  If  you 
don't  know  where  Robert  is,  where  do  you  think 
he  might  be  found?  " 

"  Tried  any  of  his  clubs?  "  says  I. 

He  had,  all  of  'em.    Also  he'd  had  him  paged 


IN  ON  THE  OOLONG  211 

through  four  hotel  grill  rooms  and  called  up 
three  brokers'  offices. 

"  Well,  if  he  ain't  havin'  a  late  lunch,  or 
playin'  billiards,  or  watchin'  the  stock  board, 
I  give  it  up,"  says  I.  "  Maybe  you've  noticed 
that  Mr.  Robert  ain't  been  in  many  afternoons 
lately." 

"  Huh !  Perhaps  I  haven't,  though!  "  grunts 
Old  Hickory.  "  But  this  time  it  is  important 
that  he  should  be  here.  Young  man,  you  seem 
to  have  less  wool  on  your  wits  than  most  of 
the  office  force ;  so  I  am  going  to  confide  to  you 
that  unless  we  find  Robert  before  four- thirty 
o'clock  this  afternoon  the  Corrugated  Trust 
Company  will  lose  a  lot  of  money." 

"  Oh,  if  it's  a  case  of  savin'  the  next  divi 
dend,"  says  I,  "  I'll  take  another  think.  I  ex 
pect  you  asked  for  him  at  the  house!  ' 

* '  He  was  there  at  one-fifteen  and  left  twenty 
minutes  later,"  says  Mr.  Ellins. 

'  *  Yes ;  but  what  kind  of  clothes  was  he  wear' 
in'?  "  says  I. 

"  Clothes!  "  snorts  out  Old  Hickory.  "  What 
the  blithering " 

"  Lemme  ask  his  man,"  says  I,  grabbin'  the 
desk  'phone.  "  Plaza — yes,  Plaza,  double  0 
double  three  sixty-one.  Sure !  You  got  it.  Say, 
Mr.  Ellins,  that  butler  of  yours  don't  burn  the 

carpet  movin'  fast,  does  he?  He  must 

Hello!  I  want  to  talk  to  Walters.  Ah,  never 


212  TORCHY 

mind  who  I  am,  switch  him  on!  "  And  inside 
of  two  minutes  I  have  the  report.  "  Frock 
coat  and  silk  lid,"  says  I.  "  See!  Society 
date." 

"  Huh!  "  says  the  old  man.  "  That  settles 
it.  He's  tagging  around  after  that  young  lady 
violinist  again.  Might  have  guessed;  for  since 
she's  come  back  from  Paris  he  has  taken 
about  as  much  interest  in  business  as  a  cat 
does  in  astronomy.  But  to-morrow  morning 
we'll " 

"  Say,"  I  breaks  in,  "  if  it's  a  case  of  young 
lady,  why  not  locate  her  and  then  scout  for  Mr. 
Eobert  in  the  neighborhood?  That  ought  to 
be  easy." 

li  Think  so?  "  says  he.  "  Well,  young  man, 
you  have  my  permission  to  tackle  the  job.  Her 
name  is  Inez  Webster.  I  don't  know  where  she 
lives,  or  with  whom  she's  staying;  but  she's 
somewhere  in  New  York.  Now,  how  will  you 
begin?  " 

"  By  rubberin'  at  Mr.  Robert's  date  pad," 
says  I. 

"  Good!  "  says  Old  Hickory.  "  No  one  else 
thought  of  that,"  and  he  leads  the  way  in  and 
unlocks  Mr.  Robert's  rolltop.  "  Now  what  do 
those  scratches  mean?  " 

"I.  W.  2:15,"  say  si,  readin' it  off.  "  The 
arrow  points  to  Inez.  He  must  be  with  her 
now. ' ' 


IN  ON  THE  OOLONG  213 

' '  Wherever  that  is !  "  growls  Mr.  Ellins. 
"  Go  on." 

"  Say,  lemme  think  a  minute,"  says  I,  slippin' 
into  the  swing  chair  and  doin'  the  Sherlock 
gaze  at  the  desk. 

"  Oh,  certainly!  "  says  he,  snappy  and  sar 
castic.  * '  Take  a  nap  over  it !  Plenty  of  time !  ' ' 
and  with  that  he  pads  back  into  his  office  and 
slams  the  door. 

Now  I  didn't  like  pawin'  through  the  pigeon 
holes  or  drawers ;  but  when  I  happens  to  glance 
at  the  waste  basket  I  feels  more  at  home.  In 
a  jiffy  I  has  it  dumped  on  the  rug.  There  was 
an  empty  cigarette  box,  the  usual  collection  of 
circulars,  a  dozen  torn  business  letters,  and  so 
on.  It  looked  like  a  hopeless  hunt,  too,  until 
I  runs  across  this  invitation  card  announcin' 
that  the  Misses  Pulsifer  will  be  at  home  from 
two-fifteen  until  five-thirty.  There's  a  Fort 
Washington  Eoad  address,  and  down  in  one 
corner  it  says  "  music."  Also  to-day's  the 
day. 

"  Whoop!  "  says  I,  stowin'  away  the  card. 
"  Me  for  the  Misses  Pulsifers'  on  a  long  shot. 
Hey,  Mr.  Ellins!  "  I  shouts,  stickin'  my  head 
in  the  door.  "  Can  I  draw  two  bones  for  ex 
pense  money?  I'm  on  the  trail." 

"  The  blazes  you  are!  "says  he. 

"  Yep,"  says  I.  "  Mebbe  it's  a  false  scent; 
but  if  I  find  him  what's  the  message?  " 


214  TOECHY 

"  Just  ask  Bobert,"  says  he,  il  if  it  has  oc 
curred  to  him  that  those  P.  K.  &  Q.  contract 
copies  have  got  to  be  filed  with  the  bonding 
company  this  afternoon.  That's  all." 

"  Eight!  "  says  I.  "  P.  K.  &  Q.  contracts. 
I'm  off." 

Ever  get  as  far  up  into  the  northwest  corner 
of  the  island  as  Fort  Washington  Boad?  Then 
you  know  how  many  blocks  it  is  from  the  near 
est  subway  station.  Not  havin'  time  for  a  half- 
hour  stroll,  I  takes  a  Broadway  express,  jumps 
it  at  157th,  hunts  up  a  taxi,  and  turns  down  the 
red  flag. 

"  Now  don't  try  zigzaggin'  around  to  roll  up 
mileage, ' '  says  I  to  the  shuffer ;  * '  but  beat  it 
straight  there." 

Some  swell  places  up  in  that  neck  of  Man 
hattan,  what?  Why,  some  of  them  folks  has  so 
much  back  yard  they  keep  their  own  cow. 
When  we  rolls  in  through  a  pair  of  big  stone 
gates  I  begin  to  suspect  that  the  Misses  Pulsi- 
fers  was  lady  plutes  for  fair,  and  the  size  of 
the  house  had  me  stunned. 

"I'm  swell  lookin'  front  door  comp'ny,  I 
am,"  thinks  I,  handin'  over  a  dollar  thirty  to  the 
taxi  pirate  and  paradin'  in  across  the  red  car 
pet.  "  Now  what  is  it  I  tell  the  butler  when 
he  pushes  out  his  tray?  " 

All  the  guard  they  has  on  the  door,  though, 
is  a  French  maid,  and  when  she  starts  to  look 


IN  ON  THE  OOLONG  215 

me  over  suspicious  I  shoves  the  invitation  card 
at  her. 

11  Say,  Marie,"  says  I,  "  where 's  the  do- 
in'sf  " 

11  Pardon?  "  says  she.    "  What  you  wish?  " 

"  Ah,  where  do  they  keep  the  music?  "  says  I. 

11  Ze  musicale?  "  says  she.  "  It  is  commence. 
S-s-s-sh !  ' '  and  she  points  down  the  hallway. 

"  Yes,  I  was  afraid  I'd  be  late,"  says  I. 
11  Glad  they  didn't  wait.  I'll  sneak  into  a  back 
seat." 

Did  I?  Well,  say,  I  didn't  know  what  I  was 
runnin'  into;  for  as  I  pushes  through  some 
draperies  I  finds  myself  on  the  side  lines  of  the 
biggest  herd  of  girls  I  ever  saw  collected  in  one 
room  before.  Why,  there  was  rows  and  rows 
of  'em,  all  in  white  dresses,  and  the  minute  I 
steps  in  about  two  hundred  pairs  of  eyes  re 
volves  my  way. 

Talk  about  jumpin'  into  the  limelight !  I  felt 
like  I'd  wandered  out  on  the  stage  while  the  big 
scene  was  goin'  on.  Then  comes  the  giggles, 
and  business  with  the  elbows  of  passin'  the 
nudge  along.  They  all  forgets  what's  doin'  up 
on  the  platform  by  the  piano  and  pays  strict 
attention  to  me.  Blush?  Say,  I'll  bet  my  ears 
ain't  got  back  their  reg'lar  color  yet! 

Seemed  like  my  feet  was  stuck  to  the  floor, 
too.  Maybe  it  was  an  hour  I  stood  there,  and 
maybe  it  was  only  a  minute ;  but  at  last  I  takes 


216  TORCHY 

one  wild  look  around  over  that  girl  convention 
and  then  I  backs  out.  I'd  seen  him,  though. 
Way  over  by  an  open  window  on  the  other  side 
was  Mr.  Robert,  one  of  the  four  men  in  that 
whole  crowd.  So  out  the  front  door  I  rushes 
and  then  tiptoes  around  the  veranda  until  I 
came  to  him. 

And  he  wa'n't  gazin'  around  watchin'  for 
casual  butters-in.  Not  Mr.  Robert!  All  he's 
seein'  is  the  slim  young  lady  standin'  up  on  the 
platform  with  the  violin  tucked  under  her  chin. 
You  couldn't  blame  him  much,  either;  for,  while 
I  ain't  any  judge  of  the  sort  of  music  she  was 
teasin'  out  of  the  strings,  I'll  say  this  much: 
The  way  she  was  doin'  it  was  well  worth 
watchin'.  The  swing  of  that  elbow  of  hers,  and 
the  Isadora  Duncan  sway  of  her  shoulders  as 
she  hits  the  high  notes  sure  did  have  some  class 
to  it.  He's  so  busy  followin'  her  motions  that 
he  don't  even  know  when  I  leans  in  within  six 
inches  of  him  and  whispers.  So  I  has  to  give 
him  the  gentle  prod. 

"Eh!"  says  he,  whirlin'  around.  "Why, 
what  the — Torchy !  ' 

"  Uh-huh,"  says  I.  "  Crawl  out  backwards, 
can't  you?  " 

"  Wha — what's  that?  "  says  he,  whisperin' 
sort  of  husky. 

' '  You  got  to  do  it, ' '  says  I.  "I  was  sent  up 
special  to  get  you." 


IN  ON  THE  OOLONG  217 

' '  Why,  what 's  the  matter  ?  ' '  says  he. 

"  P.  K.  &  Q.  contracts,"  says  I.  "  Did  you 
file  'em  yet?  " 

"  By  Jove,  no !  "  he  groans  under  his  breath. 
"  I— I  forgot." 

"  Then  it's  a  case  of  beat  it,"  says  I. 

"  But— but  I  can't!  "  says  Mr.  Robert.  "  I 
can't  possibly  leave  now,  right  in  the  middle 
of " 


t  i 


That's  so,"  says  I.  <  She's  lookin'  this 
way  now.  But  where 'd  you  stow  the  contracts? 
Remember  that,  do  you?  " 

"  Why,  of  course,"  says  he.  "  Third  left 
hand  drawer  of  my  desk,  in  a  document  box. ' ' 

"  'S  enough!  "  says  I.  "  I'll  'phone  down 
and  tell  'em.  They'll  fix  it  up.  Don't  move; 
she's  lookin'  your  way  again." 

11  Wait !  "  says  he,  behind  his  hand.  "  I  must 
see  you  before  you  go  back,  after  the  concert  is 
over.  Wait  for  me  in  the  garden." 

"  In  the  garden,  Maud,  it  is,"  says  I,  and 
with  that  I  slides  back  to  the  front  entrance  and 
gets  Marie  to  lead  me  to  the  'phone  booth. 

Well,  I'd  got  the  joint  all  sized  up  now.  It's 
one  of  these  swell  boardin'  schools  for  girls, 
where  they  take  piano  lessons  and  are  exposed 
to  French  and  the  German  measles.  And,  now 
my  knees  has  quit  wabblin'  and  I  was  safe  out 
of  the  hall,  I  was  almost  glad  I'd  come  up  and 
give  the  young  ladies  such  a  treat.  I  couldn't 


218  TOECHY 

help  admirin'  Mr.  Eobert's  nerve,  though;  for 
he  must  have  known  what  he  was  lettin'  him 
self  in  for  when  he  follows  Inez  up  there.  But 
when  they  get  it  that  bad  there's  no  tellin'  how 
reckless  they'll  be. 

If  it  had  been  all  the  same  to  Mr.  Eobert,  my 
next  move  would  have  been  to  get  away  from 
the  spot  as  quick  as  my  feet  would  let  me;  but 
so  long  as  he'd  assigned  me  a  waiting  part 
that's  what  it  had  to  be.  "With  Marie's  help  I 
finds  the  garden  out  at  the  back  of  the  house 
and  makes  myself  comf 'table  on  a  rustic  seat. 
It's  a  flossy  garden  scene,  all  right,  with  wind 
ing  paths,  and  flowerbeds,  and  cute  little  sum 
mer  houses,  and  all  sorts  of  bushes  in  bloom. 
Now  and  then  I  could  hear  music  driftin'  out, 
and  when  a  piece  was  through  the  hand  clappin' 
would  commence,  like  a  shower  on  a  tin  roof. 

Say,  it  had  sittin'  behind  the  brass  rail  in  the 
office  beat  to  a  froth,  and  I  was  enjoyin'  it, 
lazy  and  comf 'table,  with  my  feet  up  on  the 
bench  and  my  head  back;  when  all  at  once 
there's  a  big  spasm  of  applause,  the  doors 
openin'  on  the  back  veranda  are  swung  open, 
everybody  starts  chatterin'  together,  there's  a 
swish  and  a  rustle  and  a  clatter  of  high  heels; 
and  the  next  thing  I  knew  the  whole  blamed 
garden  was  full  of  'em. 

Girls!  Say,  all  the  fifty-seven  varieties  was 
represented, — tall  ones,  short  ones,  thin  ones, 


IN  ON  THE  OOLONG  219 

plump  ones,  and  plain  fatties.  There  was  aris 
tocratic  brunettes,  and  dimpled  blondes,  and 
every  shade  between.  They  ranged  from  four 
teen  up,  and  they  sported  all  kinds  of  hair 
dressin',  from  double  pleated  braids  to  the 
latest  thing  in  turban  swirls.  And  there  was 
little  Willie,  hemmed  in  by  a  twelve-foot  wall 
on  three  sides  and  solid  squads  of  girls  on  the 
fourth ! 

First  they  began  sailin'  by  in  groups  of  twos 
and  threes  and  fours,  all  givin'  me  the  goo-goo 
stare  and  snickerin'.  Honest,  you'd  thought  I 
was  some  kind  of  a  humorous  curiosity,  spe 
cially  exhibited  for  the  occasion.  Ain't  they 
the  limit,  though?  And  the  whispered  remarks 
they  passed!  "  Why,  Madge!  Aren't  you  just 
killing!  Whose  brother  *did  you  say  you 
thought Yes,  and  so  curly,  too !  ' ; 

I  try  to  forget  that  red  thatch  of  mine  most 
of  the  time;  but  this  was  no  place  to  practice 
bein'  absent  minded.  It  didn't  seem  to  make 
any  diff  'rence  whether  I  put  my  hat  on  or  left 
it  off,  they  were  wise  to  the  ruddy  hair.  All  I 
could  do  was  to  squeeze  myself  into  one  corner 
of  the  seat  and  pretend  not  to  notice  'em.  What 
I  wanted  most  was  to  stand  up  and  holler  for 
Mr.  Eobert.  Why  in  blazes  didn't  he  show  up, 
anyway  ? 

I'd  been  enjoyin'  this  gen'ral  inspection  stunt 
for  four  or  five  minutes,  when  maids  begun  cir- 


220  TOBCHY 

culatin'  among  the  mob  with  trays  of  sand 
wiches  and  plates  of  chicken  salad,  and  every 
last  one  of  'em  stopped  at  my  station. 

"  No,  thanks,"  says  I.  Think  I  wanted  to 
give  a  food  destroyin'  performance  before  an 
audience  like  that?  I  was  just  wavin'  away 
the  fourth  offer  of  picnic  grub  when  I  hears  a 
little  squeal  come  from  a  bunch  of  new  recruits, 
and  when  I  looks  up  to  see  what's  happening 
now — well,  you'd  never  guess.  It's  Miss  Vee! 
You  know,  the  pink  and  white  queen  I  was  tellin ' 
you  about  meetin'  at  the  swell  dancin'  class 
where  I  subbed  for  Izzie  in  the  cloakroom  and 
was  invited  out  to  join  the  merry  throng. 

She  ain't  got  the  ballroom  costume  on,  of 
course;  but  I'd  know  them  big  gray  eyes  and 
that  straw  colored  hair  and  that  sweet  pea  com 
plexion  in  any  disguise.  For  a  second  she 
stands  there  gazin'  at  me  sort  of  surprised  and 
puzzled,  like  she  didn't  know  whether  to  give 
me  the  nod  or  just  put  up  her  chin  and  sail  by. 
If  I  could  I'd  looked  the  other  way,  so's  to 
give  her  a  chance  to  duck  recognizin '  me ;  but  I 
couldn't  do  anything  but  stare  back.  And  the 
next  thing  I  knew  she's  comin'  straight  for  me. 

* '  Why,  Torchy !  ' '  says  she,  sort  of  purry  and 
confidential.  "You!"  And  blamed  if  she 
wa'n't  holdin'  out  both  hands. 

Well,  say,  you  can't  imagine  what  a  dif- 
f 'rence  that  makes  to  me.  It  was  like  fallin'  off 


IN  ON  THE  OOLONG  221 

a  roof  and  landin'  in  a  hammock.  What  did 
I  care  for  that  push  of  young  lady  fluffs 
then? 

"  Sure  thing,  it's  me,"  says  I,  grabbin'  the 
hands  before  she  could  change  her  mind. 
"  Say,  have  a  seat,  won't  you,  Miss  Vee?  " 

"  Oh,  then  you  haven't  forgotten?  "  says 
she. 

"  Me?  Forget?  "  says  I.  "  Say,  Miss  Vee, 
I'll  keep  right  on  rememberin'  that  spiel  we 
had  together  until  breathin'  goes  out  of  fashion 
— and  then  some!  Gee!  but  I'm  glad  you  hap 
pened  along!  ': 

"  But  how  is  it,"  says  she,  "  that  you " 

"  Special  commission,"  says  I.  "I'm  waitin' 
here  for  Mr.  Robert  Ellins." 

' '  Oh !  ' '  says  she.  ' '  And  have  you  had  some 
salad  and  sandwiches?  " 

"No;  but  I'm  ready  for  'em  now,"  says  I. 

"  That  is,  if Say,  you  don't  mind  doin' 

this,  do  you?  " 

"  Why  should  I?  "  says  she. 

"  Oh,  well,"  says  I,  "  you  see  I  ain't — well, 
I'm  kind  of  outclassed  here,  and  I  didn't  know 
but  some  of  the  other  girls  might 

"  Let  them  dare!  "  says  Miss  Vee,  straight- 
enin'  up  and  glancin'  around  haughty.  My! 
but  she's  a  thoroughbred !  There  was  one  group 
standin'  a  little  way  off  watchin'  us;  but  that 
look  of  Miss  Vee's  scattered  'em  as  though 


222  TORCHY 

she'd  turned  the  hose  on  them.  Next  minute 
she  was  smilin'  again.  "  You  see,"  she  goes 
on,  sittin'  close,  "  I'm  not  much  afraid." 

*  *  You  're  a  hummer,  you  are !  ' '  says  I, 
lookin'  her  over  approvin'. 

"  There,  there!  "  says  she.  "  I  see  that  you 
must  have  something  to  eat  right  away.  Here, 
Hortense!  There!  Now  you'll  have  a  cup  of 
tea,  won't  you!  " 

"  Anything  you  pass  out  goes  with  me,"  says 
I,  "  even  to  tea." 

It  was  my  first  offense  in  the  oolong  line, 
and,  honest,  I  couldn't  tell  now  how  it  tasted; 
but  I  knew  all  about  how  Vee  handles  a  cup 
and  saucer,  though,  and  the  way  she  has  of 
lookin'  at  you  over  the  rim.  Say,  she's  the 
only  girl  I  ever  knew  who  could  talk  more'n  a 
minute  to  a  feller  without  the  aid  of  giggles. 
There's  some  sense  to  what  she  has  to  say,  too, 
and  all  the  way  you  can  tell  whether  she's 
joshin'  or  not  is  by  watchin'  her  eyes.  And  me, 
I  wa'n't  losin'  any  tricks. 

She  tells  me  all  about  how  she's  been  to  school 
here  ever  since  she  was  a  little  girl.  Seems 
she's  as  shy  on  parents  as  I  am;  but  she  has 
an  aunt  that  she  lives  with  between  school  terms. 
This  is  her  nnishin'  year,  and  as  soon  as  the 
final  doin's  are  over  she  and  Aunty  are  due  to 
sail  for  Europe. 

"  Coming  back  in  September?  "  says  I. 


IN  ON  THE  OOLONG  223 

"  Oh,  no  indeed!  "  says  she.  "  Perhaps  not 
for  two  years." 

' '  Gee !  ' '  says  I. 

"  Well?  "  says  she,  and  I  finds  myself  lookin' 
square  into  them  big  gray  eyes  of  hers. 

"  Oh,  nothing,"  says  I;  "  only — only  it 
sounds  a  long  ways  off.  And,  say,  you  don't 
happen  to  have  a  spare  photo,  do  you,  maybe 
one  taken  in  that  dress  you  wore  the  night  of 
the  ball?  " 

11  Silly !  "  says  she.    "  But  suppose  I  have?  ' 

"Why,"  says  I,—"  why,  I  thought— well, 
say,  it  wouldn't  do  any  harm  to  leave  my  new 
address,  would  it?  That's  the  number,  care  of 
Mrs.  Zenobia  Preble." 

'  *  Zenobia !  ' '  says  she.  i '  Why,  I  know  who 
she  is.  Do  you  live  with " 

"  I  'm  half  adopted  already, ' '  says  I.  '  *  Bully 
old  girl,  ain't  she?  And  say,  Miss  Vee— 

It  was  just  about  then  I  had  the  feelin'  that 
some  one  was  tryin'  to  butt  in  on  this  two-part 
dialogue  of  ours,  and  as  I  looks  up,  sure  enough 
there's  Mr.  Robert,  with  his  eyes  wide  and  his 
mouth  half  open,  watchin'  us. 

"  Well,  it's  all  over,"  says  I.  "  Mr.  Robert's 
waitin'  for  me.  Good  luck  and — and—  Oh, 
what's  the  use?  Give  my  regards  to  Europe, 
will  you?  Good-by!"  And  with  that  we 
shakes  hands  and  I  breaks  away. 

"  I  don't  wish  to  seem  curious,"  says  Mr. 


224  TORCHY 

Eobert,  as  we  walks  out  to  his  cab,  "  but — er — 
is  this  something  recent?  " 

"  Not  very,"  says  I.    "  We've  met  before." 

* '  Then  allow  me, ' '  says  he,  ' '  to  congratulate 
you  on  your  good  taste." 

' '  Thanks !  ' '  says  I.  * '  Same  to  you ;  and  I 
ain't  got  so  much  on  you  at  that,  eh?  " 

We  drops  the  subject  there;  but  Mr.  Robert 
seems  so  pleased  over  something  or  other  that 
we'd  gone  twenty  blocks  before  he  remembers 
what  brought  me  up. 

"  Oh,  by  the  way,"  says  he,  "  I  suppose 
there'll  be  no  end  of  row  about  my  forgetting 
to  send  down  those  contracts.  The  Governor 
was  wild,  wasn't  he?  ' 

"  He  was  wild,  all  right,"  says  I,  "  without 
knowin'  whether  you'd  forgot  'em  or  not." 

' '  But  when  you  'phoned  him, ' '  says  Mr.  Rob 
ert,  ' '  of  course  he— 

' '  Ah,  say !  ' '  says  I.  "  Do  I  look  like  a 
trouble  hunter?  I  'phoned  Piddie — told  him  to 
sneak  'em  out,  send  'em  down,  and  keep  his 
mouth  shut.  All  you  got  to  do  is  act  innocent." 

Never  mind  the  hot  air  Mr.  Robert  passes 
out  after  that.  What  tickles  me  most  is  the 
package  that  came  for  me  yesterday  by  mes 
senger.  I  finds  it  on  my  plate  at  dinner  time; 
so  both  the  old  ladies  was  on  hand  when  I 
opens  it. 

"  Why,  Torchy!  "  says  Aunt  Martha,  lookin' 


IN  ON  THE  OOLONG  225 

at  me  shocked  and  scandalized.  "  A  young 
lady's  picture!  " 

"Yep,"  says  I.  "  Ain't  she  a  dream, 
though?  " 

And,  say,  Martha 'd  been  lecturin'  me  yet  if 
it  hadn't  been  for  Zenobia  breakin'  in. 

11  Do  remember,  Martha,"  says  she,  "  that 
you  were  not  always  sixty-three  years  old,  and 

that  once Why,  bless  me!  This  must  be 

Alicia  Vernon's  child.  Is  there  a  name  on  the 
back?  There  is!  Verona  Ashton  Hemming- 
way,  heiress  to  all  that  is  left  of  poor  Dick's 
fortune.  She 's  a  beauty,  just  like  her  mother. ' ' 

"  She's  all  of  that,"  says  I. 

It  didn't  make  any  difference  to  Aunt  Martha 
who  she  was,  though.  She  didn't  think  it 
right  for  young  ladies  to  give  away  their  pic 
tures  to  young  men.  She  was  for  askin'  me 
how  long  I'd  known  Miss  Vee,  and 

"  There,  now,  Martha,"  said  Zenobia,  "  sup 
pose  we  don't." 

That's  how  it  is  I  can  guess  who  it  was  blew 
themselves  for  a  corkin'  big  silver  frame,  and 
put  Vee's  picture  in  it,  and  stood  it  on  my 
bureau.  Course,  Vee's  on  her  way  to  foreign 
parts  now,  and  there's  no  tellin'  when  she's 
comin'  back.  Besides,  there  ain't  anything  in 
it,  anyway.  But  somehow  that  picture  in  the 
silver  frame  seems  to  help  some. 


CHAPTER  XV 

BATTING  IT  UP  TO  TOECHY 

NOBODY  had  to  point  him  out  to  me.  I 
hadn't  been  holdin'  down  the  chair  behind  the 
brass  gate  more'n  two  days  before  I  knew  who 
was  the  living  joke  on  the  Corrugated  Trust 
Company's  force.  It's  Uncle  Dudley,  of  course. 

And,  say,  my  coppin'  that  out  don't  go  to 
prove  I'm  a  Mr.  Cute.  Any  mush-head  could 
have  picked  him  after  one  glimpse  of  the  old 
vintage  Prince  Albert,  the  back  number  silk 
lid,  and  the  white  Chaunceys  he  wears  on  each 
side  of  his  face.  That  get-up  would  be  good  for 
a  quiet  smile  even  over  in  Canarsie;  but  when 
you  come  to  plant  it  in  the  midst  of  such  a 
sporty  aggregation  as  the  Corrugated  carries 
on  the  payroll — why,  you've  got  the  comic 
chuckles  comin'  over  fast. 

"  Say,  Piddie,"  says  I  the  second  morning, 
after  watchin'  it  blow  in,  "  who's  the  seed,  eh!  " 

"  That?  "  says  Piddie.  "  Oh,  that's  old 
Dudley." 

"  Does  he  wear  the  uniform  reg'lar,"  says 
I,  "  or  is  he  celebratin'  some  anniversary?  " 

226 


BATTING  IT  UP  TO  TORCHY      227 

And  Piddle  almost  allows  himself  to  grin  as 
he  explains  how  that's  the  same  costume  Dud 
ley  has  come  down  to  work  in  every  day  for 
the  last  fifteen  years. 

"  Well,  it's  a  flossy  outfit,  all  right,"  says  I. 
J<  What  is  he,  one  of  the  directors?  " 

No,  he  wa'n't.  He's  some  sort  of  subassist- 
ant  auditor  with  a  salary  of  eighteen  per.  You 
know  the  kind — one  of  these  deadwood  speci 
mens  that  stand  a  show  of  gettin'  the  prunin' 
hook  every  time  there's  a  shake-up.  Most 
every  office  has  a  few  of  'em,  hangin'  on  like 
last  year's  oak  leaves  in  the  park;  but  it  ain't 
often  they  can  qualify  as  comic  supplements. 

Not  that  Uncle  Dudley  tries  to  be  humorous. 
He's  the  quietest,  meekest  old  relic  you  ever 
saw,  slidin'  in  soft  and  easy  with  his  hat  off, 
and  walkin'  almost  as  though  he  had  his  shoes 
in  his  hand.  But  the  faded  umbrella  under 
one  arm  and  the  big  buttonhole  bouquet  he 
always  wears  puts  him  in  the  joke  book  class 
without  takin'  the  face  lambrequins  into  ac 
count  at  all. 

Can  I  let  all  that  get  by  me  without  passin' 
out  some  josh?  You  can  see  me,  can't  you? 
Never  mind  all  the  bright  and  cunnin'  remarks 
I  sprung  on  Uncle  Dudley  now;  but  for  awhile 
there  I  made  a  point  of  puttin'  over  something 
fresh  every  day.  Why,  it  was  a  cinch! 

All  the   comeback   I  ever   got  out  of  him, 


228  TOECHY 

though,  was  that  batty  old  smile  of  his,  kind 
of  sad  and  gentle,  as  if  I  was  remindin'  him 
of  times  gone  by.  And  there  ain't  a  lot  of 
satisfaction  in  that,  you  know.  Now,  I  can 
chuck  the  giddy  persiflage  at  Piddie  day  in 
and  day  out,  and  enjoy  doin'  it,  because  it  al 
ways  gets  him  so  wild.  Also  there's  more  or 
less  thrill  to  slippin'  the  gay  retort  across  to 
Old  Hickory  Ellins  now  and  then,  because 
there's  a  giddy  chance  of  gettin'  fired  for  it. 
But  to  rub  it  into  a  non-resister  like  Uncle 
Dudley — well,  what's  the  use? 

So  after  awhile  I  cut  it  out  altogether,  leavin' 
him  for  such  amateur  cut-ups  as  Izzy  Bud- 
heimer  and  Flannel  Haggerty  to  practice  on. 
Then  little  by  little  me  and  old  Dudley  got  more 
or  less  chummy,  what  with  me  steerin'  him 
around  to  my  fav'rite  dairy  lunch  joint  and  all 
that.  And,  say,  we  must  have  been  a  great 
pair,  sittin'  side  by  side  in  the  armchairs,  put- 
tin'  away  sweitzer  sandwiches  and  mugs  of 
chickory  blend ;  him  in  his  tall  lid,  and  with  his 
quiet,  old  timy  manners,  and  me — well,  I  guess 
you  get  the  tableau. 

I  used  to  like  hearin'  him  talk,  he  uses  such 
a  soothin',  genteel  brand  of  conversation;  noth 
ing  fancy,  you  know,  but  plain,  straightaway 
goods.  Mostly  he  tells  me  about  his  son,  who's 
livin'  out  in  California  somewhere  and  is  just 
branchin'  out  in  the  cement  block  buildin'  busi- 


BATTING  IT  UP  TO  TORCHY       229 

ness.  Son  is  messin'  in  politics  more  or  less 
too;  mixin'  it  up  with  the  machine,  and  gettin' 
the  short  end  of  the  returns  every  trip.  But 
it's  on  account  of  this  reform  stunt  of  his  that 
the  old  gent  seems  to  be  so  proud  of  him,  not 
appearin'  to  care  whether  he  ever  got  elected 
to  anything  or  not. 

He  don't  say  so  much  about  the  married 
daughter  that  he  lives  with  over  in  Jersey;  but 
I  don't  think  much  about  that  until  after  I've 
let  him  tow  me  over  to  dinner  once  and  met 
Son  in  Law  Bennett.  He's  a  flashy  proposi 
tion,  this  young  Mr.  Bennett  is,  havin'  an  in 
terest  in  a  curb  brokerage  firm  that  rents  win 
dow  space  on  Broad-st.  and  has  desk  room  down 
on  William.  Let  him  tell  it,  though,  and,  pro- 
vidin'  some  of  his  deals  go  through,  he's  go  in' 
to  have  Morgan  squealin'  for  help  before  the 
year  is  out. 

And  I  find  that  at  home  Uncle  Dudley  is 
rated  somewhere  between  the  fam'ly  cat  and 
the  front  doormat.  Mr.  Bennett  don't  exactly 
gag  the  old  man  and  lock  him  in  the  cellar.  He 
ignores  him  when  he  can,  and  when  he  has  to 
notice  him  he  makes  it  plain  that  he's  standin' 
the  disgrace  as  well  as  he  can. 

"  So  you  came  over  with  the  old  sport,  did 
you?  "  says  Bennett  to  me.  "  Batty  old  duf 
fer,  eh?  That  comes  of  being  a  dead  one  for 
so  long.  Manages  to  hang  on  with  the  Corru- 


230  TORCHY 

gated,  though,  don't  he?  He'd  better,  too !  I'm 
not  running  any  old  folks'  home  here." 

But  it  wa'n't  to  show  off  how  he  stood  with 
his  son  in  law  that  Uncle  Dudley  had  lugged 
me  along.  He'd  got  so  used  to  bein'  dealt  out 
for  a  twospot  that  he  didn't  seem  to  mind.  He 
didn't  claim  to  be  anything  more  even  at  the 
office . 

It's  his  flower  garden,  out  back  of  the  house, 
that  Uncle  Dudley  had  got  me  'way  out  there 
to  see;  and,  while  I  ain't  any  expert  on  that 
line  of  displays,  I  should  say  this  posy  patch  of 
his  had  some  class  to  it.  Anyway,  seein'  it, 
and  findin'  out  how  he  rolls  off  the  mattress  at 
sunrise  every  mornin'  to  tend  it,  lets  me  in  for 
a  new  view  of  him.  It 's  this  little  garden  patch 
and  the  son  out  West  that  makes  life  worth 
livin'  for  him,  in  spite  of  Son  in  Law  Bennett. 

"  Say,  Dudley,"  says  I,  "  why  don't  you 
work  a  combination  of  the  two;  go  out  where 
you  can  raise  roses  all  winter,  if  the  dope  these 
railroad  ads.  sling  out  is  straight,  and  be  with 
your  son  too?  " 

"  I — I  can't  do  that,  just  yet,"  says  he,  sort 
of  hesitatin'.  "  You  see,  he  hasn't  seen  me  for 
twelve  years,  and  since  then  I  have — er — well, 
I've  been  slipping  backward.  He  doesn't  know 
what  a  failure  I've  made  of  life,  and  if  I  gave 
up  here  and  went  on  to  him — why " 


I'm  on,"  says  I.    "  He'd  spot  you  for  one 


BATTING  IT  UP  TO  TOECHY      231 

of  the  down-and-outers.  But  you  do  get  it 
rubbed  in  here  good  and  plenty,  don't  you?  ' 

"  From  Bennett?  "  says  he.  "  Oh,  he  is 
right,  I  suppose.  He  knows  how  useless  I  am. 
But  we  cannot  all  succeed,  can  we  ?  Some  of  us 
must  stay  at  the  bottom  and  prop  the  ladder." 

One  thing  about  Uncle  Dudley,  he  had  no 
whine  comin'.  He  takes  it  all  meek  and  cheer 
ful,  and  so  far  as  I  could  make  out  he's  most 
as  useful  around  the  office  as  a  lot  of  others 
that  gets  chesty  whenever  they  think  what 
would  happen  to  the  concern  if  they  should  be 
sick  for  a  week.  Anyway,  there's  frequent  calls 
for  old  Dudley  to  straighten  out  this  or  that; 
but  somehow  he  never  seems  to  get  credit  for 
bein'  much  more  than  a  sort  of  a  walkin'  copy 
book  that  remembers  what  other  people  don't 
want  to  lumber  up  their  valuable  brains  with. 
Maybe  it's  the  white  mud  guards,  or  his  habit 
of  lettin'  anyone  boss  him  around,  that  keeps 
him  down. 

And  I  expect  things  would  have  gone  on  that 
way,  until  he  either  dropped  out  or  got  the  blue 
envelope  some  payday,  if  it  hadn't  been  for  this 
lid-liftin'  business  up  at  Albany.  Course, 
you've  read  how  they  uncovered  first  one  lot 
of  grafters  and  then  another,  and  fin'lly,  with 
that  last  swipe  of  the  muck  rake,  got  the  Cor 
rugated  rung  into  the  mess  ?  And,  say,  anyone 
would  think,  from  some  of  the  papers,  that  we 


232  TORCHY 

was  all  a  bunch  of  crooks  down  here,  spendin' 
our  time  feedin'  wads  of  hundred-dollar  bills 
to  the  yellow  dog.  Maybe  it  don't  stir  up  Mr. 
Kobert  some  thorough,  though! 

"  Why,"  I  heard  him  say  to  the  old  man, 
"  it's  a  beastly  outrage,  that's  what  it  is!  All 
the  fellows  at  the  club  are  chaffing  me  about  it, 
you  know.  And  besides  it's  disturbing  business 
frightfully.  Look  at  the  tumble  our  shares  took 
yesterday !  I  say,  Governor,  we  must  send  out 
a  denial." 

' '  Huh !  ' '  growls  Old  Hickory.  *  *  Who  cares 
a  blinkety  blanked  blank  what  they  say  we  did? 
Let  'em  prove  it!  " 

Then  the  next  day  them  checks  was  sprung 
on  the  investigatin'  committee,  and  it  looked  as 
though  they'd  made  out  their  case  against  the 
Corrugated.  Perhaps  there  wa'n't  doin's  on 
the  seventeenth  floor  that  mornin'!  Clear  out 
where  I  sat  I  could  hear  the  boss  callin'  for 
first  one  man  and  then  another,  and  Piddie  is 
turkeyin'  in  and  out  so  excited  he  don't  know 
whether  he's  on  duty  or  runnin'  bases.  Once, 
when  he  stops  to  lean  against  the  spring-water 
bottle  and  wipe  his  dewy  brow,  I  slips  up  be 
hind  and  taps  him  quick  on  the  shoulder. 

' '  Ye-e-e-es,  sir !  "  says  he,  before  he  sees  who 
it  is. 

"  Never  mind,  Piddie,"  says  I.  "I  was 
goin'  to  ask  you  '  Gruilty  or  not  guilty?  '  But 


BATTING  IT  UP  TO  TOECHY      233 

what's  the  use?  Anyone  can  see  it  was  you  that 
did  it." 

*  *  You — you  impudent  young  sauce  box !  "  he 
begins.  "  How  dare  you " 

"  Ah,  save  that  for  the  subpoena  server," 
says  I.  "  He'll  be  in  here  after  you  in  a  min 
ute.  And,  say,  my  guess  is  that  you'll  get  about 
ten  years  on  the  rockpile." 

When  the  special  directors'  meetin'  gets  un 
der  way,  though,  and  the  big  guns  of  the  Cor 
rugated  law  force  got  on  the  job,  there  was  less 
noise  and  more  electricity  in  the  air.  Honest, 
with  all  that  tiptoein'  and  whisperin'  and  seri 
ous  looks  bein'  passed  around,  I  didn't  even 
have  the  gall  to  guy  one  of  the  new  typewriter 
girls.  Kind  of  gets  on  your  nerves,  a  thing 
of  that  kind  does,  and  if  a  squad  of  reserves 
had  marched  in  and  pinched  the  whole  outfit, 
I  shouldn't  have  been  so  much  surprised. 

Bight  in  the  midst  of  it  too  there  comes  my 
three  rings  on  the  buzzer,  and  in  I  sneaks  where 
they're  holdin'  the  inquest.  Say,  they're  all 
sittin'  around  the  big  mahogany  directors'  ta 
ble,  with  the  old  man  at  the  head,  lookin'  black 
and  ugly,  and  grippin'  a  half  smoked  cigar  butt 
between  his  teeth.  I  could  see  at  a  glance  they 
hadn't  thrown  any  scare  into  him  yet.  He  was 
just  beginning  to  fight,  that's  all. 

"  Boy,"  says  he,  "  bring  in  Dudley." 

"  Yes,  sir,"  says  I. 


234  TOECHY 

But,  say,  my  heels  dragged  some  as  I  went 
out.  Course  I  didn't  know  what  they  wanted 
of  the  old  boy;  but  it  didn't  look  to  be  such 
a  wild  guess  that  they'd  picked  him  to  play  the 
goat  part.  I  finds  him  perched  up  on  his  stool, 
calm  and  serene,  workin'  away  on  the  ledgers 
as  industrious  as  if  nothin'  special  was  goin'  on. 

"  Dudley,"  says  I,  "  are  you  feelin'  strong?" 

"  Why,  Torchy,"  says  he,  "  I  am  feeling 
about  as  usual,  thank  you." 

"  Well,  brace  yourself  then,"  says  I;  "  for 
there's  rough  goin'  ahead.  You're  wanted  in 
on  the  carpet." 

"  Me!  "  says  he.    "  Mr.  Ellins  wants  me?  " 

"  Uh-mih,"  says  I,  "  him  and  the  rest  of  'em. 
But  don't  let  'em  put  any  spell  on  you.  It's 
your  cue  now  to  forget  the  meek  and  lowly  busi 
ness.  I  know  you  ain't  strong  for  bluffin' 
through  a  game;  but  for  the  love  of  soup  put 
up  a  front  to-day!  ' 

Dudley,  he  only  smiles  and  shakes  his  head. 
Then  off  he  toddles,  wearin'  his  old  ink-stained 
office  coat  and  even  keepin'  on  the  green  eye- 
shade. 

Well,  I  don't  know  how  long  they  had  him  on 
the  grill;  but  it  couldn't  have  been  more'n  half 
an  hour,  for  along  about  three  o'clock  I  strolls 
into  the  audit  department,  and  there's  old  Dud 
ley  back  on  his  perch  writin'  away  again. 

"  Say,  are  you  it?  "  says  I. 


BATTING  IT  UP  TO  TOECHY      235 

I  '  Why,  how  is  that !  ' '  says  he. 

"  Did  they  tie  anything  to  you?  "  says  I. 
'*  You  know — con  you  into  takin'  the  blame, 
or  anything  like  that?  " 

"  Blame  for  what?  "  says  he.  "I  don't  be 
lieve  I  understand.  But  nothing  of  the  sort 
was  mentioned.  I  was  merely  given  some  in 
structions  about  my  work." 

"Oh!"  says  I.  "That's  all,  eh?  And 
you've  gone  right  at  it,  have  you?  " 

II  No,"  says  he.    "  The  fact  is,  Torchy,  I  am 
writing  out  my  resignation." 

"  What!  Quitting  "  says  I.  "  Say,  don't 
you  see  what  a  hole  that  puts  you  in?  Why, 
it  makes  you  the  goat  for  fair !  If  you  do  that 
you'll  need  bail  inside  of  forty-eight  hours — 
and  you  won't  get  it.  Look  here,  Dudley,  take 
my  advice  and  tear  that  up." 

"  But  I  can't,  Torchy,"  says  he,  "  really,  I 
can't." 

"  Why  not?  "  says  I.  "  You've  got  a  couple 
of  hands,  ain't  you?  And  what '11  you  do  for 
another  job  if  you  chuck  this  one?  Say,  why  in 
blazes  are  you  so  anxious  to  take  your  chances 
between  Sing  Sing  and  the  bread  line?  ' 

He's  there  with  the  explanation,  all  right, 
and  here 's  the  way  it  stands :  Uncle  Dudley  has 
been  called  on  because  his  partic'lar  double- 
entry  trick  is  to  keep  the  run  of  the  private 
accounts.  All  they  want  him  to  do  is  to  take 


236  TOECHY 

descriptions  of  a  couple  of  checks,  dig  up  the 
stubs,  and  juggle  his  books  so  the  record  will 
fit  in  with  a  nice  new  set  of  transactions  that's 
just  been  invented  for  the  purpose. 

"  But  what  checks?  "  says  I.  "  The  five 
thousand  plunkers  to  Mutt  &  Mudd?  " 

"  Why,  yes,"  says  he.  "  How  did  you 
know?  " 

"  Ah,  how  did  I Say,  Dudley,  ain't  you 

been  readin'  the  papers  lately?  "  says  I. 

Would  you  believe  it?  He  don't  know  any 
more  about  what's  in  the  air  than  a  museum 
mummy  knows  of  Lobster  Square.  This  little 
private  cyclone  that's  been  turnin'  the  office 
upside  down  ain't  so  much  as  ruffled  his  whis 
kers.  Checks  are  checks  to  him,  and  these  spe 
cial  trouble  makers  don't  give  him  any  chills 
up  the  back  at  all.  He's  been  told,  though,  to 
use  the  acid  bottle  on  his  books  and  write  in  a 
new  version. 

"  Well,  why  not  do  it?  "  says  I.  "  What's 
that  to  you?  " 

"  Why,  don't  you  see,"  says  he,  "  it  would 

be  making  a  false  entry,  and — I — I Well, 

I've  never  done  such  a  thing  in  my  life, 
Torchy,  and  I  can't  begin  now." 

And,  say,  what  do  you  know  about  that,  eh? 
Just  a  piece  of  phony  bookkeepin'  that  he  don't 
even  have  to  put  his  name  to,  his  job  gone 
if  he  don't  follow  orders,  and  him  almost  to 


BATTING  IT  UP  TO  TORCHY      237 

the  age  limit  anyway,  with  Son  in  Law  Bennett 
ready  to  shove  him  on  the  street  the  minute  he 
gets  the  sack! 

"  Do  you  mean  it?  "  says  I. 

He  puts  his  signature  to  the  resignation  and 
hands  it  over  for  me  to  read. 

"  Say,  Dudley,"  says  I,  lookin'  him  up  and 
down,  * '  this  listens  to  me  like  a  bughouse  play 
of  yours;  but  I  got  to  admit  that  you  do  it 
sporty.  There's  no  ocher  streak  in  you." 

"  I  hoped  you  would  understand,"  says  he. 
"  In  the  circumstances,  it  was  all  I  could  do, 
you  see." 

"  What  I  see  plainer 'n  anything  else,"  says 
I,  "is  that  if  this  goes  through  your  career 
is  bugged  to  the  limit.  When  do  you  want 
this  handed  in!  " 

"  As  soon  as  possible,"  says  he.  "I  sup 
pose  I  ought  to  resign  at  once." 

"  Resign!  "  says  I.  "  You'll  be  lucky  if  the 
old  man  don't  have  you  chucked  through  the 
window.  Better  be  waitin'  down  in  the  lower 
corridor  when  I  spring  this  on  Mr.  Ellins." 

Nothin'  of  that  kind  for  Uncle  Dudley, 
though.  He  starts  straightenin'  up  his  desk 
as  I  goes  out,  as  calm  as  though  he  was  house 
cleanin'  for  a  vacation. 

And  while  I'm  tryin'  to  make  up  my  mind 
how  to  deliver  this  document  to  the  main  stem 
and  duck  an  ambulance  ride  afterwards,  the 


238  TORCHY 

directors'  meetin'  breaks  up.  So  I  finds  Old 
Hickory  alone  in  his  private  office  and  slips 
it  casual  on  the  pad  in  front  of  him. 

"  Here,  what's  this?  "  he  snorts,  callin'  me 
back  as  he  opens  up  the  sheet.  "  Eh?  Dud 
ley  !  Resigns,  does  he  ?  What,  that  dried  up, 
goat  faced,  custard  brained,  old —  Say,  boy ; 
ask  him  what  the  grizzly  grindstones  he  means 
by " 

' '  I  did, ' '  says  I,  ' '  and,  if  you  want  to  know, 
he's  quittin'  because  he's  too  straight  to  cook 
up  the  books  the  way  you  told  him." 

"  Cook  up  the  books!  "  gasps  Old  Hickory, 
gettin'  raspb'ry  tinted  in  the  face  and  dis- 
playin'  neck  veins  like  a  truck  horse.  "  He's 
been  welshing,  has  he?  Perhaps  he'd  like  to 
turn  State's  witness?  Well,  by  the  great 
sizzling  skyrockets,  if  that's  his  trick,  I'll  give 
him  enough  of " 

"  Excuse  me,  Mr.  Ellins,"  I  breaks  in,  "  but 
you  're  slippin '  your  clutch.  Tricks !  Why,  he 
ain't  even  wise  to  what  you  want  him  to  do 
it  for.  All  he  knows  is  that  it's  crooked,  and 
he  renigs  on  a  general  proposition.  And,  say, 
when  a  man's  as  straight  as  that,  with  the  work 
house  starin'  him  in  the  face,  he's  too  valuable 
to  lose,  ain't  he?  " 

"  Wha-a-at?  "  gurgles  Old  Hickory. 

"  Besides,"  says  I,  hurryin'  the  words  to  get 
'em  all  out  before  any  violent  scene  breaks 


BATTING  IT  UP  TO  TORCHY      239 

loose,  "  knowin'  all  he  does  about  them  Mutt  & 
Mudd  checks,  and  with  what  he  don't  know 
about  the  case,  it  wouldn't  be  hardly  safe  to 
have  him  roamin'  the  streets,  would  it?  Now  I 
leave  it  to  you."  « 

Say,  I  was  lookin'  Old  Hickory  right  in  the 
eye,  ready  to  dodge  the  inkstand  or  anything 
else,  while  I  was  puttin'  that  over,  and  for  a 
minute  I  thought  it  was  comin '  sure.  But  while 
he  can  get  as  hot  under  the  collar  as  anyone 
I  ever  saw,  and  twice  as  quick,  he  don't  go 
clear  off  his  nut  any  of  the  time. 

"  Young  man,"  says  he,  calmin'  down  and 
motionin'  me  to  a  chair,  "  as  usual,  you  seem 
to  be  more  or  less  well  informed  on  this  mat 
ter  yourself.  Now  let's  have  the  rest  of  it." 

And  just  like  that,  all  of  a  sudden,  it's  bat 
ted  up  to  me.  So  I  lets  it  come,  with  all  the 
details  about  Uncle  Dudley's  frosty  home  life, 
and  the  reformer  son  out  West  that  still  thinks 
father  is  makin'  good.  He  sits  there  and  lis 
tens  to  every  word  too.  Not  that  he  comes  in 
with  the  sympathetic  sigh,  or  shows  signs  of 
being  troubled  by  mist  in  the  eye  corners.  He 
just  throws  in  an  occasional  grunt  now  and  then 
and  drums  his  fat  finger-tips  on  the  chair  arm. 

"  Huh!  "  says  he.  "  Babes  and  sucklings! 
But  I've  had  worse  advice  that  has  cost  me 
a  lot  more.  Well,  I  suppose  an  old  fool  like 
that  is  dangerous  to  have  drifting  around.  But 


240  TOECHY 

I  don't  want  him  here  just  now,  either.  Um- 
m-m !  Where  did  you  say  this  son  of  his  lived  ? ' ' 

"  Just  out  of  Los  Angeles,"  says  I. 

"  All  right,"  says  Old  Hickory.  "  Tell  him 
he  goes  west  Tuesday  as  traveling  auditor  to 
our  second  vice  president.  He'll  bring  up  at 
Los  Angeles  about  the  middle  of  the  month 
— and  about  that  time  it  may  happen  that  he'll 
be  retired  on  full  pay.  But  I'll  keep  this  resig 
nation,  as  a  curiosity." 

Now  don't  ask  me  to  describe  how  old  Dud 
ley  takes  it;  for  when  he  gets  the  full  partic'- 
lars  of  the  decision  it  near  keels  him  over.  And 
what  part  of  it  do  you  say  tickles  him  most1? 
That  the  books  don't  have  to  be  juggled! 

"  It  wasn't  like  Mr.  Ellins  to  countenance  an 
act  of  that  sort,  not  in  the  least, ' '  says  he, ' '  and 
I  am  very  glad  that  he  has  changed  his  mind." 

"  Say,  Dudley,"  says  I,  "  you're  a  wonder, 
you  are." 

And  it  was  all  I  could  do  to  keep  from  askin' 
him  if  he  thought  he  owned  the  only  bottle 
of  ink  eradicator  there  was  in  New  York. 

Do  I  know  who  did  fix  up  them  entries? 
Well,  by  the  nervous  motions  of  a  certain  party 
next  mornin',  I  could  give  a  guess. 

"  Piddie,"  says  I,  "if  they  ever  get  you  on 
the  stand,  you  want  to  wear  interf erin '  pads  be 
tween  your  knees,  so  they  won't  hear  the  bones 
rattle." 


CHAPTER  XVI 

THKOWING  THE  LINE  TO   SKID 

SAY,  this  is  twice  I've  been  let  in  wrong  on 
Skid  Mallory.  Remember  him,  don't  you? 
Well,  he's  our  young  college  hick  that  I  helped 
steer  up  against  Baron  Kazedky  when  he 
landed  that  big  armor  plate  order.  Did  they 
make  Skid  a  junior  partner  for  that,  or  paint 
his  name  on  a  private  office  door?  Not  so 
you'd  notice  it.  Maybe  they  was  afraid  a  sud 
den  boost  like  that  would  make  him  dizzy.  But 
they  promotes  him  to  the  sales  department  and 
adds  ten  to  his  pay  envelope.  I  was  most  as 
tickled  over  it  as  Mallory  was,  too. 

"  Didn't  I  tell  you?  "  says  I.  "  You're  a 
comer,  you  are!  Why,  I  expect  in  ten  or  a 
dozen  years  more  you'll  be  sharin'  in  the  semi- 
annuals  and  ridin'  down  to  the  office  in  a 
taxi." 

"  Perhaps  I  may,  Torchy — in  ten  or  a 
dozen  years,"  says  he,  kind  of  slow  and  sober. 

I  could  guess  what  he  was  thinking  of  then. 
It  was  the  girl,  that  sweet  young  thing  that 
Brother  Dick  towed  in  here  along  last  winter, 

241 


242  TORCHY 

some  Senator's  daughter  that  Skid  had  got 
chummy  with  when  he  was  doin'  his  great  quar 
terback  act  and  havin'  his  picture  printed  in 
the  sportin'  extras. 

"  How's  that  affair  comin'  on?  "  says  I;  for 
I  ain't  heard  him  mention  her  in  quite  some 
time. 

"  It's  all  off,"  says  he,  shruggin'  them  wide 
shoulders  of  his.  "  That  is,  there  never  was 
anything  in  it,  you  know,  to  begin  with." 

"  Oh,  there  wa'n't,  eh?  "  says  I.  "  Forgot 
all  about  that  picture  you  used  to  carry  around 
in  the  little  leather  case,  have  you?  ' 

Skid,  he  flushes  up  a  bit  at  that,  and  one  hand 
goes  up  to  his  left  inside  pocket.  Then  he 
laughs  foolish.  "  It  isn't  I  who  have  forgot 
ten,"  says  he. 

"  Oh-ho!  "  says  I.  "  Well,  I  wouldn't  have 
thought  her  the  kind  to  shift  sudden,  when  she 
seemed  so " 

But  Mallory  gives  me  the  choke  off  sign,  and 
as  we  walks  up  Broadway  he  gradually  opens 
up  more  and  more  on  the  subject  until  I've  got 
a  fair  map  of  the  situation.  Seems  that  Sis 
ain't  exactly  set  him  adrift  without  warnin'. 
He'd  sort  of  helped  cut  the  cable  himself.  She'd 
begun  by  writin'  to  him  every  week,  tellin'  him 
all  about  the  lively  season  she  was  havin'  in 
Washington,  and  how  much  fun  she  was  gettin' 
out  of  life.  She  even  put  in  descriptions  of  her 


THROWING  THE  LINE  TO  SKID     243 

new  dresses,  and  some  of  her  dance  orders, 
and  now  and  then  a  bridge  score,  or  a  hand 
painted  place  card  from  some  dinner  she'd 
been  to. 

And  Skid,  thinkin'  it  all  over  in  the  luxury  of 
his  nine  by  ten  boudoir,  got  to  wonderin'  what 
attractions  along  that  line  he  could  hold  out 
to  a  young  lady  that  was  used  to  blowin'  in 
more  for  one  new  spring  lid  than  he  could  earn 
in  a  couple  of  weeks. 

* '  And  orchids  are  her  favorite  flowers !  '  * 
says  he.  ' '  Ever  buy  any  orchids,  Torchy  ?  ' 

"  Not  guilty,"  says  I;  "  but  they  ain't  so 
high,  are  they,  that  you  couldn't  splurge  on  a 
bunch  now  and  then?  What's  the  tariff  on  'em, 
anyway?  ' 

"  At  times  you  can  get  real  nice  ones  for 
a  dollar  apiece,"  says  he. 

"  Phe-e-e-ew!  "  says  I.  "  She  has  got  swell 
tastes." 

"  It  isn't  her  fault,"  says  he.  "  She's  never 
known  anything  different." 

So  what  does  Skid  do  but  slow  up  on  the 
correspondence,  skippin'  an  answer  here  and 
there,  and  coverin'  only  two  pages  when  he  did 
write.  For  one  thing,  he  didn't  have  so  much 
to  tell  as  she  did.  I  knew  that;  for  I'd  seen 
more  or  less  of  Mallory  durin'  the  last  few 
months,  and  I  knew  he  was  playin'  his  cards 
close  to  his  vest. 


244  TORCHY 

Not  that  he  was  givin'  any  real  lifelike  miser 
imitation;  but  he  didn't  indulge  in  high  priced 
cafe  luncheons  on  Saturdays,  like  most  of  the 
bunch;  he'd  scratched  his  entry  at  the  college 
club;  and  he  was  soakin'  away  his  little  sur 
plus  as  fast  as  he  got  his  fingers  on  it. 

Course,  that  programme  meant  sendin'  re 
grets  to  most  of  the  invites  he  got,  and  spendin' 
his  evenin's  where'  it  didn't  cost  much  to  get 
in  or  out.  One  frivolous  way  he  had  of  killin' 
time  was  by  teachin'  'rithmetic  to  a  class  of 
new  landed  Zinskis  at  a  settlement  house  over 
on  the  East  Side. 

"  Ah,  what's  the  use?  "  I  used  to  tell  him. 
11  They'd  learn  to  do  compound  interest  on 
their  fingers  in  a  month,  anyway,  and  the  first 
thing  you  know  you'll  be  payin'  rent  to  some 
of  'em." 

But  he  was  pretty  level  headed  about  most 
things,  I  will  say  that  for  Mallory,  specially  the 
way  he  sized  up  this  girl  business.  Seems  at 
last  she  got  the  idea  he  was  grouchy  at  her 
about  something;  and  when  he  didn't  deny,  or 
come  to  the  front  with  any  reason — why,  she 
just  quit  sendin'  the  billy  ducks. 

"  So  you're  never  going  to  see  her  any  more, 
eh?  "  says  I. 

"  Well,"  says  he,  "I  supposed  until  within 
an  hour  or  so  ago  that  I  never  should.  And 
then Well,  she's  here,  Torchy;  came  yes- 


THKOWING  THE  LINE  TO  SKID     245 

terday,  and  I  presume  she  expects  to  see  me 
to-night. ' ' 

"  That's  encouragin',  anyway,"  says  I. 

But  Mallory  don't  seem  so  much  cheered  up. 
It  turns  out  that  Sis  is  spendin'  a  few  days 
with  friends  here,  waitin'  for  the  rest  of  the 
fam'ly  to  come  on  and  sail  for  Europe.  They're 
givin'  a  farewell  dinner  dance  for  her,  and 
Skid  is  on  the  list. 

The  trouble  is  he  can't  make  up  his  mind 
whether  to  go  or  stay  away.  One  minute  he's 
dead  sure  he  won't,  and  the  next  minute  he 
admits  he  don't  see  what  harm  there  would  be 
in  takin'  one  last  look. 

"  But,  then,"  says  Mallory,  "  what  good 
would  that  do?  " 

"  I  know,"  says  I.  "  There's  a  young  lady 
friend  of  mine  on  the  other  side  too.  Say, 
Mallory,  I  guess  we  belong  in  the  lobster 
class." 

And  when  we  splits  up  on  the  corner  Skid 
has  decided  against  the  party  proposition,  and 
goes  off  towards  his  boardin'  house  with  his 
chin  down  on  his  collar  and  his  heels  draggin'. 

So  I  wa'n't  prepared  for  the  joyous  smile 
and  the  frock  coat  regalia  that  Mallory  wears 
when  he  blows  into  the  office  about  ten-forty- 
five  next  forenoon.  He's  sportin'  a  spray  of 
lilies  of  the  valley  in  his  lapel,  and  swingin' 
his  silver  topped  stick,  and  by  the  look  on  his 


246  TOECHY 

face  you'd  think  he  was  hearin'  the  birdies  sing 
in  the  treetops. 

11  Tra-la-la,  tra-la-lee!  "  says  I,  thro  win ' 
open  the  brass  gate  for  him.  "  Is  it  a  special 
holiday,  or  what?  " 

"  It's  a  very  special  one,"  says  he,  thumpin' 
me  on  the  back  and  whisperin'  husky  in  my  ear. 
"  Torchy,  I'm  married!  " 

' «  Wha-a-at !  "  I  splutters.  *  *  Who  to  ? 
When?  " 

"  To  Sis,"  says  he,  "  half  an  hour  ago." 

"  Eh?  "  says  I.  "  Mean  to  say  you've  been 
and  eloped  with  the  Senator's  daughter?  ' 

"  Eloped!  "  says  he,  as  though  he'd  never 
heard  the  word  before.  ' '  Why,  no — er — that  is, 
we  just  went  out  and — and— 

Oh,  no,  they  hadn't  eloped!  They'd  merely 
slid  out  of  the  ballroom  about  three  A.M.,  after 
dancin'  seventeen  waltzes  together,  snuggled 
into  a  hansom  cab,  and  rode  around  the  park 
until  daylight  talkin'  it  over.  Then  she'd 
slipped  back  into  the  house,  got  into  her  trav" 
elin'  dress  while  he  was  off  changin'  his  clothes, 
met  again  at  eight  o'clock,  chased  down  to  City 
Hall  after  a  license,  and  then  dragged  a  young 
rector  away  from  his  boiled  eggs  and  toast  to 
splice  'em. 

But  Skid  didn't  call  that  elopin'.  Why,  Sis 
had  left  word  with  the  butler  to  tell  her  friends 
all  about  it,  and  the  first  thing  they  did  after 


THROWING  THE  LINE  TO  SKID     247 

it  was  over  was  to  send  a  forty-word  collect 
telegram  to  papa.  And  Mallory,  he'd  just 
dropped  around  to  arrange  with  Old  Hickory 
for  a  little  vacation  before  they  beat  it  for  At 
lantic  City. 

"  So  that  ain't  elopin',  eh?  "  says  I.  "I  ex 
pect  you'd  call  that  a  sixty-yard  run  on  a  for 
ward  pass,  or  something  like  that?  Well,  the 
old  man's  inside.  Luck  to  you." 

Mallory  wa'n't  on  the  carpet  long,  and 
when  he  comes  out  I  asks  how  he  made 
back. 

"  Oh,  bully!  "  says  he.  ''I'm  to  have  ten 
days." 

"  With  or  without?  "  says  I. 

11  Oh,  I  forgot  to  ask,"  says  he. 

Little  things  like  bein'  on  the  payroll  or  not 
wa'n't  botherin'  him  then.  He  gives  me  a  bone 
crushin'  grip  and  swings  out  to  the  elevator 
in  a  rush;  for  he's  been  away  from  Sis  nearly 
half  an  hour  now. 

Exceptin'  a  picture  postcard  or  two,  showin' 
the  iron  pier  and  a  bathin'  scene,  I  didn't  hear 
from  Mr.  and  Mrs.  Mallory  for  more'n  a  week. 
And  then  one  afternoon  I  gets  a  'phone  mes 
sage  from  Skid,  saying  that  they're  all  settled 
in  a  little  flat  up  on  Washington  Heights  and 
they'll  be  pleased  to  have  me  come  up  to 
dinner. 

"  It's  our  very  first  dinner,  you  know,"  says 


248  TOECHY 

he,  "  and  Sis  is  going  to  get  it  all  by  herself. 
I  suggested  that  we  try  the  first  one  on  you." 
"  That  don't  scare  me  any,"  says  I.  "  I've 
lived  on  sinkers  and  pie  too  long  to  duck  ama 
teur  cookin'.  I'll  be  there." 

I  was   on   the   grin   all   the   afternoon   too, 
thinkin'  of  the  joshes  I  was  goin'  to  hand  him. 
At  three  minutes  of  closing  time  I  was  all  ready 
to  sneak  out,  with  one  eye  on  the  clock  and 
the  other  on  Piddie,  when  in  blows  a  ruby  faced, 
thick  waisted  gent  with  partly  gray  hair,  a 
heavyweight  jaw,  and  a  keen  pair  of  twinklin' 
gray  eyes.  He  looks  prosperous  and  important, 
and  he  proceeds  to  act  right  to  home. 

"  Boy,"  says  he,  pushin'  through  the  gate, 
"  is  this  the  general  office  of  the  Corrugated 
Trust  Company?  " 

"  Yep,"  says  I.  "  That's  what  it  says  on 
the  door." 

I 1  There  is  employed  here,  I  understand, ' '  he 
goes  on,  "  a  young  man  by  the  name  of  Mal- 
lory. ' ' 

Say,  I  was  wide  awake  at  that.  "  Mallory?  " 
says  I.  "I  can  find  out.  Did  you  want  to  see 
him  on  business  1  " 

"  It  is  a  personal  matter,"  says  he.  "  Is  he 
here?  " 

"  Now,  let's  not  rush  this,"  says  I.  "  My 
orders  is  to  find  out " 

"  Very  well,"  says  the  gent,  "  there  is  my 


THROWING  THE  LINE  TO  SKID     249 

card.  And  perhaps  I  should  mention  that  I 
have  the  honor — er — I  suppose,  to  be  his  father 
in  law." 

Say,  and  here  I  was,  up  against  the  Senator 
himself.  Course  it  was  my  cue  to  shrivel  up 
and  do  the  low  salaam;  but  all  I  can  think 
of  at  the  minute  is  to  look  him  over  and 
grin. 

"  Gee!  "  says  I.  "  Then  you're  on  his  trail, 
eh?" 

Maybe  it  was  the  grin  fetched  him;  for  them 
square  mouth  corners  flickers  a  little  and  he 
don't  throw  any  fit.  "  Evidently  you  are  some 
what  familiar  with  the  circumstances,"  says 
he.  "  May  I  ask  if  you  are  sufficiently  favored 
with  the  confidence  of  my  new  son  in  law  to 
know  where  he  and  my — er — his  wife  happen 
to  be  just  now?  ' 

"  I  admit  it,"  says  I;  "  but  if  you're  thinkin' 
of  springin'  any  hammer  music  on  Skid,  you 
can  look  for  another  party,  for  you  won't  get 
it  out  of  me  in  a  thousand  years !  ' : 

"  Ah!  "  says  he.  "  I  see  Young  Lochinvar 
has  at  least  one  champion.  Allow  me  to  state 
that  my  intentions  are  pacific.  My  wife  and 
I  merely  wish,  before  sailing,  to  pay  a  formal 
call  on  our  daughter  and  her  new  husband. 
Now  if  you  could  give  me  their  address " 


i  i 


Why,  say,  Senator,"  says  I,  "  if  you  ain't 
lookin'  to  start  anything,  I  can  do  better.    I'm 


250  TORCHY 

going  right  up  there  myself  this  minute,  and 
if  Mrs. " 

' '  She  is  waiting  downstairs  in  the  cab, ' '  says 
he.  "  Nothing  would  suit  us  better." 

And,  say,  maybe  it  wa'n't  just  what  I  should 
have  done,  but  blamed  if  I  could  see  how  to 
dodge  it  when  it's  up  to  me  that  way.  So  it's 
me  climbin '  up  on  the  front  seat  with  the  driver 
of  a  fancy  hotel  taxi,  papa  and  mamma  behind, 
and  off  rolls  the  surprise  party. 

Well,  you  know  them  cut  rate  apartment 
houses,  with  a  flossy  reception  room,  all  marble 
slabs  and  burlap  panels  and  no  elevator.  The 
West  Indian  at  the  telephone  exchange  says 
we'll  find  the  Mallorys  on  the  top  floor  back  to 
the  left.  That  meant  four  flights  to  climb, 
which  might  account  for  the  lack  of  conversa 
tion  on  the  way  up.  Mallory,  with  his  coat  off, 
his  cuffs  rolled  back,  and  his  face  steamed  up, 
answers  the  ring  himself. 

"  Ah,  that  you,  Torchy?  "  says  he.  "  We 
were  just  wondering  if  you  would —  Why — 
er — ah—  -"  and  as  he  gets  sight  of  the  old 
couple  out  in  the  dark  hall  he  breaks  off 
sudden. 

"  It's  all  right,"  says  I.  "  He's  promised 
to  give  the  peace  sign.  You  know  the  Senator, 
don't  you,  Skid?  " 

"  The  Senator!  "  he  gasps  out 

**  I  believe  I  once  had  the  pleasure  of  seeing 


THROWING  THE  LINE  TO  SKID     251 

Mr.  Mallory,"  says  the  old  boy,  comin'  to  the 
front  graceful.  "  Hope  you  will  pardon  the 
intrusion;  but " 

Just  then,  though,  Sis  appears  from  the 
kitchen,  her  face  all  pink  and  white,  and  her 
sleeves  pushed  up  past  the  dimples  in  her  el 
bows.  Under  a  thirty-nine-cent  blue  and  white 
checked  apron  she's  wearin'  a  lace  party  dress 
that  was  a  dream.  It's  an  odd  combination; 
but  most  anything  would  look  well  on  a  little 
queen  like  her.  She  takes  one  look  at  Skid,  an 
other  at  the  Senator,  and  then  behind  the  old 
man  she  spies  Mother. 

Well,  it's  just  a  squeal  from  one,  and  a  sigh 
from  the  other,  and  then  they've  made  a  rush 
to  the  center  that  wedges  us  all  into  that  little 
three-foot  hall  like  it  was  the  platform  of  a 
subway  car,  and  before  anything  more  can  be 
said  they've  gone  to  a  fond  clinch,  each  pattin' 
the  other  on  the  back  and  passin'  appropriate 
remarks. 

Somehow,  I  guess  the  Senator  hadn't  quite 
figured  on  this  part  of  the  programme.  I  ex 
pect  his  plan  was  to  be  real  polite  and  formal, 
stay  only  long  enough  to  let  the  young  people 
know  he  could  stand  it  if  they  could,  and  then 
back  out  dignified. 

Whatever  Mother  might  have  meant  to  do 
when  she  started,  it  was  all  off  from  the  minute 
Sis  let  out  that  squeal.  And  no  sooner  had  we 


252  TOECHY 

got  ourselves  untangled  and  edged  sideways' 
into  the  cute  little  parlor,  than  Mother  an 
nounces  how  she  means  to  stay  right  here  until 
it's  time  to  start  for  the  steamer.  Did  some 
one  say  dinner?  Good!  She'll  stay  to  dinner, 
then. 

At  that  Sis  looks  at  Skid  and  Skid  he  looks 
at  Sis.  There  was  some  real  worry  exchanged 
in  them  looks  too;  but  young  Mrs.  Mallory  ain't 
one  to  be  stumped  as  easy  as  that. 

"  Oh,  goody!  "  says  she,  clappin7  her  hands. 
* '  But,  Mother,  what  is  it  you  do  to  make  dump 
lings  puff  out  after  you've  dropped  them  in 
the  lamb  stew?  " 

' '  Dumplings !  Lamb  stew !  ' '  says  Mother. 
"  Gracious!  Don't  ask  me,  child.  I  haven't 
made  any  for  years.  Doesn't  your  cook 
know?  " 

"  She  doesn't,"  says  Sis.  "  I  am  the  cook, 
Mother. ' ' 

Well,  that  was  only  the  beginning  of  the 
revelations;  for  while  Sis  and  Mother  was 
strugglin'  with  the  receipt  book,  the  Senator 
was  makin'  a  tour  of  inspection  around  the 
apartment.  It  didn  't  take  him  so  long,  either. 

' '  Ahem !  ' '  says  he  to  Mallory.  ' '  Very  cozy, 
indeed;  but — er — not  exactly  spacious." 

"  Four  rooms  and  bath,"  says  Mallory. 

"  Was— er— that  the  bathtub  in  there?  " 
says  the  Senator,  jerkin'  his  thumb  at  the  bath- 


THROWING  THE  LINE  TO  SKID     253 

room  door.  "  I  fancied  it  might  be — er — a 
pudding  dish.  Might  I  inquire  what  rent  you 
pay  for — er — all  this?  " 

"  Forty  a  month,  sir,"  says  Mallory. 

'  *  Ah !  Economy,  I  see.  Good  way  to  be 
gin,"  says  he.  "  And  if  it  is  not  too  personal 
a  question,  your  present  salary  is " 

"I'm  getting  twenty-five  a  week,"  says  Skid, 
lookin'  him  straight  between  the  eyes. 

"  Then  you  have  a  private  income,  I  pre 
sume?  "  says  the  Senator. 

"  Well,"  says  Mallory,  "  my  aunt  in  Bos 
ton  sends  me  fifty  dollars  every  Christmas  and 
advises  me  to  invest  my  savings  in  Government 
bonds." 

At  that  the  Senator  drops  into  a  chair  and 
whistles.  "  But — but  how  do  you  expect,"  he 

goes  on,  "  to — to Pardon  me,  but  I  am 

getting  interested.  I  should  like  to  know  what 
was  your  exact  financial  standing  when  you  had 
the  imp — er — when  you  married  my  daugh 
ter?  " 

He  gets  it,  down  to  the  last  nickel.  Skid  be 
gins  with  what  he  had  in  the  bank  when  they 
starts  for  Atlantic  City,  shows  the  hole  that 
trip  made  in  his  funds,  produces  the  receipts 
for  furniture,  and  announces  that,  after  pun- 
glin'  up  a  month's  rent,  there's  something  over 
seven  dollars  left  in  the  treasury. 

"  Huh!  "  grunts  the  Senator.    "  Hence  the 


254  TOECHY 

lamb  stew,  eh!  I  don't  wonder!  So  you  and 
Sis  have  undertaken  to  live  in  a  forty-dollar 
apartment  on  a  twenty-five-dollar  salary,  have 
you?  " 

"  That's  what  it  looks  like,  sir/'  says  Mai- 
lory. 

"  And  who  is  the  financial  genius  that  is  to 
manage  this  enterprise?  "  says  he. 

"  Why,"  says  Skid,  "  Mrs.  Mallory,  I  sup 
pose.  We  have  agreed  that  she  should." 

"  Sis,  eh?  "  says  the  Senator,  smilin'  kind 
of  grim.  "  Well,  you  have  my  best  wishes  for 
your  success." 

Skid  he  flushes  some  behind  the  ears ;  but  he 
only  bows  and  says  he's  much  obliged.  You 
couldn't  blame  him  for  feelin'  cut  up,  either; 
for  it's  all  clear  how  the  Senator  has  doped 
out  an  appeal  for  help  within  thirty  days,  and 
is  willin'  to  wait  for  the  call.  I'm  no  shark  on 
the  cost  of  livin'  myself;  but  even  I  could  figure 
out  a  deficit.  There 's  a  call  to  dinner  just  then, 
though,  and  we  all  gathers  round  the  stew. 

Anyway,  it  was  meant  for  a  lamb  stew.  The 
potatoes  was  some  hard,  the  gravy  was  so  thin 
you'd  thought  it  had  been  put  in  from  the  tea 
kettle  as  an  afterthought,  and  the  dumplin's 
hadn't  the  puffin'  out  charm  worked  on  'em  for 
a  cent.  But  the  sliced  carrots  was  kind  of  tasty 
and  went  all  right  with  the  baker's  bread  if 
you  left  off  the  bargain  butter.  Sis  she  tried 


THROWING  THE  LINE  TO  SKID     255 

to  laugh  at  it  all;  but  her  eyes  got  kind  of 
dewy  at  the  corners. 

"  Never  mind,  dear,"  says  Mother.  "I'll 
telegraph  for  our  old  Martha  to  come  on  and 
cook  for  you." 

"  Why,  certainly,"  says  the  Senator.  "  She 
could  sleep  on  the  fire  escape,  you  know." 

And,  say,  that  last  comic  jab  of  his,  and 
the  effect  it  had  on  Mr.  and  Mrs.  Mallory,  kind 
of  got  under  my  skin.  I  got  to  thinkin'  hard 
and  fast,  and  inside  of  five  minutes  I  stumbles 
onto  an  idea. 

"  Excuse  me,"  says  I  to  Skid;  "  but  I  guess 
I'll  be  on  my  way.  I  just  thought  of  a  date 
I  ought  to  keep." 

And  where  do  you  expect  I  brings  up?  At 
the  Ellins '  mansion,  down  on  the  avenue.  First 
time  I'd  ever  been  there  out  of  office  hours;  but 
the  maid  says  Mr.  Ellins  is  takin'  his  coffee  in 
the  lib'ry  and  she'd  see  if  he'd  let  me  in.  Ah, 
sure  he  did,  and  we  gets  right  down  to  cases. 

' '  Remember  how  that  assistant  general  man 
ager  stiff  of  yours  fell  down  on  that  public  lands 
deal  when  you  sent  him  to  Washington  last 
month?  "  says  I. 

Old  Hickory  chokes  some  on  a  swallow  of 
black  coffee  he's  just  hoisted  in;  but  he  recov 
ers  enough  to  nod. 

"  Does  he  get  the  run?  "  says  I. 
I     neglected     consulting    you    alxmt    ft, 


« 


256  TOECHY 

Torchy,"  says  he;  "  but  Ms  resignation  has 
been  called  for." 

"  Filled  the  job  yet?  "  says  I. 

"  Fortunately,  no, "says  he,  and  I  knew  by 
the  way  he  squints  that  he  thought  he  was  bein' 
mighty  humorous.  "  Possibly  you  could  rec 
ommend  his  successor?  " 

"Yep,  I  could,"  says  I.  "Would  it  help 
any  to  have  some  one  who  was  son  in  law  to 
a  Senator?  " 

"  That,"  says  Old  Hickory,  "  would  depend 
somewhat  on  which  Senator  was  his  father  in 
law." 

"  Well,"  says  I,  "  there's  his  card." 

"  Eh?  "says  he,  readin'  the  name.  "  Why 
— who " 

* '  Mallory, ' '  says  I.  ' '  You  know — hitched 
last  week.  He's  got  the  old  boy  up  there  to 
dinner  now.  Maybe  he'll  be  taken  on  as  the 
Senator's  secretary  if  you  don't  jump  in  quick. 
He's  a  hustler,  Mallory  is.  Eemember  how  he 
skinned  that  big  order  out  of  Kazedky?  And 
as  an  A.  G.  M.  he'd  be  a  winner.  Well,  does 
he  get  it?  " 

"Young  man, "says  Old  Hickory,  catchin' 
his  breath,  "  if  my  mental  machinery  worked 
at  the  high  pressure  speed  yours  does,  I 

could But  I  am  not  noted  for  being  slow. 

I've  done  things  in  a  hurry  before.  I  can  yet. 
Torchy,  he  does  get  it." 


THROWING  THE  LINE  TO  SKID     257 

"  When?  "  says  I. 

11  To-morrow  morning,"  says  he.  "  I'll  start 
him  at  five  thousand." 

"  Whoop!  "  says  I.  "  Say,  you're  a  sport! 
I'll  go  up  and  deliver  the  glad  news.  Guess 
he  needs  it  now  as  much  as  he  ever  will." 

And,  say,  you  should  have  seen  the  change 
of  heart  that  comes  over  the  Senator  when  he 
heard  the  bulletin.  "  Mallory,  my  boy,"  says 
he,  "  congratulations.  And  by  the  way,  just 
remove  that — er — imitation  lamb  stew.  Then 
we'll  all  go  down  to  some  good  hotel  and  have 
a  real  dinner." 


CHAPTER 

TOUCHING   ON   TINK   TTJTTLE 

"  ON  your  way,  now,  on  your  way!  "  says  I, 
gazin'  haughty  over  the  brass  gate.  "  No 
window  cleanin'  done  here  durin'  office 
hours !  ' ' 

"  But,"  says  the  specimen  on  the  other  side, 
"  I — I  didn't  come  to  clean  the  windows." 

"  Eh?  "  says  I,  sizin'  up  the  blue  flannel 
shirt,  the  old  leather  belt,  and  other  marks  of 
them  pail  and  sponge  artists.  "  Well,  we  don't 
want  any  sash  cords  put  in,  or  wirin'  fixed,  or 
any  kind  of  jobbin'  done  until  after  five.  That's 
General  Order  No.  1.  See?  " 

He  nods  in  kind  of  a  lifeless,  unexcited  way; 
but  he  don't  make  any  motions  towards  beatin* 
it.  '  *  I — I — the  fact  is, ' '  he  begins,  * '  I  wish  to 
see  some  one  connected  with  the  Corrugated 
Trust  Company." 

"  You've  had  your  wish,"  says  I.  "I'm  Ex 
hibit  A.  For  a  profile  view  of  me  step  around 
to  the  left.  Anything  more  f  ' ' 

He  don't  get  peeved  at  this,  nor  he  don't  grin. 
He  just  keeps  on  bein'  serious  and  calm.  "  If 

258 


TOUCHING  ON  TINK  TUTTLE      259 

you  don't  mind,"  says  he,  "  I  should  like  to  see 
one  of  the  higher  officials." 

"  Say,  that's  almost  neat  enough  to  win  out," 
says  I.  "  One  of  the  higher  officials,  eh?  How 
would  the  president  suit  you!  " 

"  If  I  might  see  him,  I'd  like  it,"  says  he. 

"  Wha-a-a-at!  "  says  I. 

Honest,  the  nerve  that's  wasted  on  some  folks 
is  a  shame.  I  had  to  sit  up  and  give  him  the 
Old  Sleuth  stare  at  that.  He's  between  twenty- 
five  and  thirty,  for  a  guess;  and,  say,  whatever 
he  might  have  been  once,  he's  a  wreck  now, — 
long,  thin  face,  with  the  cheekbones  almost 
stickin'  through,  slumped  in  shoulders,  bony 
hands,  and  a  three  months'  crop  of  mud  colored 
hair  stringin'  damp  over  his  ears  and  brushin' 
his  coat  collar.  Why,  he  looked  more  like  he 
ought  to  be  sittin'  around  the  waitin'  room  of 
some  charity  hospital,  than  tryin'  to  butt  in  on 
the  time  of  one  of  the  busiest  men  in  New  York. 

"It's  a  matter  that  ought  to  go  before  the 
president,"  says  he,  "  and  if  he  isn't  busy  I'd 
like  very  much  to " 

' '  Say,  old  scout, ' '  says  I,  '  *  you  got  about  as 
much  chance  of  bein'  let  in  to  see  Mr.  Ellins  as 
I  have  of  passin'  for  a  brunette !  So  let's  come 
down  to  cases.  Now  what's  it  all  about!  " 

He  ain't  makin'  any  secret  of  it.  He  wants 
the  concern  to  make  him  a  bid  on  an  option  he 
holds  on  some  coal  and  iron  lands.  Almost 


260  TORCHY 

comes  to  life  tellin'  me  about  that  option,  and 
for  the  first  time  I  notice  what  big,  bright,  deep 
sunk  eyes  he 's  got. 

11  Oh,  a  thing  of  that  kind  would  have  to  go 
through  reg'lar,"  says  I.  "  Wait;  I'll  call  Mr. 
Piddie.  He'll  fix  you  up." 

Does  he?  Well,  that's  what  Piddie 's  sup 
posed  to  be  there  for;  but  he  don't  any  more'n 
glance  at  the  flannel  shirt  before  he  begins  to 
swell  up  and  frown  and  look  disgusted.  "  No, 
no,  go  away!  "  says  he.  "  I've  no  time  to  talk 
to  you,  none  at  all." 

"  But,"  says  the  object,  "  I  haven't  had  a 
chance  to  tell  you " 

"  Gret  out — you!  "  snaps  Piddie,  turnin'  on 
his  heel  and  struttin'  off. 

It  ain't  the  way  he  talks  to  parties  wearin' 
imported  Panamas  and  sportin'  walkin'  sticks; 
but,  then,  most  of  us  has  our  little  fads  that 
way.  What  stirred  me  up,  though,  was  the 
rough  way  he  did  it,  and  the  hopeless  sag  to 
the  wreck's  chin  after  he's  heard  the  decision. 

"  Sweet  disposition  he's  got,  eh!  "  says  I. 
"  But  don't  take  him  too  serious.  He  ain't  the 
final  word  in  this  shop,  and  there's  nobody  gets 
next  to  the  big  wheeze  oftener  durin'  the  day 
than  yours  truly.  Maybe  I  could  get  that  option 
of  yours  passed  on.  Grot  the  document  with 
you?  " 

He  had  and  hands  it  over.     With  that  he 


TOUCHING  ON  TINK  TUTTLE     261 

drops  onto  the  reception  room  settee  and  says 
he'll  wait. 

"  Better  not,"  says  I;  "  for  it  might  be  quite 
a  spell  before  I  gets  the  right  chance.  We'll 
do  this  reg'lar,  by  mail.  Now  what's  the 
name!  " 

"  Tuttle,"  says  he,  "  Tinkham  J.  Tuttle." 

"  They  call  you  Tink  for  short,  don't  they?  " 
says  I,  and  he  admits  that  they  do.  "  All 
right,"  I  goes  on.  "  Now  the  address,  Tink. 
Jersey,  eh?  Well,  it's  likely  you'll  hear  from 
Mr.  Ellins  before  the  week's  out.  But  don't  get 
your  hopes  up ;  for  he  turns  down  enough  propo 
sitions  to  fill  a  waste  basket  every  day.  Ex 
press  elevator  at  No.  5.  So  long,"  and  I  chokes 
off  Mr.  Tuttle 's  vote  of  thanks  by  wavin'  him 
out  the  door. 

It's  well  along  in  the  afternoon  before  I  sees 
an  openin'  to  drop  this  option  in  front  of  Old 
Hickory,  grabbin'  a  minute  when  his  desk  is 
fairly  clear,  and  slammin'  it  down  just  as 
though  it  had  been  sent  in  through  Piddie. 

"  Delivered  on,"  says  I.  "  Wants  rush  an 
swer  by  mail." 

"  Huh!  "  grunts  Old  Hickory,  lightin'  up  a 
fresh  Cassadora. 

That's  all  I  expected  to  hear  of  the  transac 
tion  ;  so  about  an  hour  later,  when  Piddie  comes 
out  lookin'  solemn  and  says  I'm  to  report  to 
Mr.  Ellins,  I  don't  know  what's  up. 


262  TORCHY 

"  Is  it  a  first  degree  charge,  Piddle,"  says  I, 
"  or  only  for  manslaughter?  " 

"  I  presume  Mr.  Ellins  will  discover  what 
you  have  done,"  says  he. 

"  Well,  hope  for  the  worst,  Piddie,"  says  I. 
"  Here  goes!  " 

And  the  minute  I  sees  what  Old  Hickory  has 
in  front  of  him,  I'm  wise. 

11  Torchy,"  says  he,  givin'  me  the  steely  glit 
ter  out  of  them  cold  storage  eyes  of  his,  "  Mr. 
Piddie  seems  to  know  nothing  about  this  Michi 
gan  option." 

"  If  he  admits  that  much,"  says  I,  "  it  must 
be  so.  It's  a  record,  though." 

"  What  I  want  to  know,"  goes  on  Mr.  Ellins, 
'  *  is  how  in  blue  belted  blazes  it  got  here.  You 
brought  it  in,  didn't  you?  " 

"  Yep,"  says  I.  "It  was  this  way,  Mr.  El 
lins  :  Piddie  had  it  put  up  to  him  and  wouldn't 
even  hang  it  on  the  hook ;  but  the  guy  that  brings 
it  looked  so  mournful  that  I  butts  in  and  takes 
a  chance  on  passin'  it  along  to  you  on  my  own 
hook." 

"  Oh,  you  did,  eh?  "  he  snorts. 

"  Sure,"  says  I.  "I  got  to  do  the  fresh  act 
once  in  a  while,  ain't  II  Course,  if  you  want 
a  dead  one  on  the  gate,  I  can  hand  in  my  port 
folio  ;  but  I  thought  all  you  had  to  do  with  punk 
options  like  this  was  to  toss  'em  in  the  basket 
and  then  have  'em  fired  back  at " 


TOUCHING  ON  TINK  TUTTLE      263 

"  Fire  nothing  back!  "  says  Mr.  Ellins. 
"  Why,  you  lucky  young  rascal,  we've  been  try 
ing  to  get  hold  of  this  very  property  for  eight 
months!  And  Piddie!  Bah!  Of  all  the  pin- 
headed,  jelly  brained " 

"  Second  the  motion,"  says  I,  springin'  the 
joyous  grin. 

"  That  will  do,"  says  Old  Hickory,  catchin' 
himself  up.  "  Just  you  forget  Mr.  Piddie  and 
listen  to  me.  Know  this  Tuttle  person  by  sight, 
don't  you?  " 

"  Couldn't  forget  him,"  says  I.  "  Want  him 
on  the  carpet?  " 

"  I  do,"  says  he.  "  Have  him  here  at  ten- 
thirty  to-morrow  morning.  But  find  him  to 
night,  and  see  that  you  don't  open  your  head 
about  this  business  to  anyone  else." 

"  I  get  you,"  says  I,  doin*  the  West  Point 
salute.  "  It's  me  to  trail  and  shut  up  Tuttle. 
He'll  be  here,  if  I  have  to  bring  him  in  an  am 
bulance.  ' ' 

That's  why  I  jumps  out  before  closin'  time 
and  mingles  with  the  Jersey  commuters  in  a 
lovely  hot  ride  across  the  meadows.  It's  a 
scrubby  station  where  I  gets  off,  too;  one  of 
these  fact'ry  settlements  where  the  whole  pop 
ulation  answers  the  seven  o'clock  whistle  every 
mornin'.  There's  a  brick  barracks  half  a  mile 
long,  where  they  make  sewin'  machines  or  some 
thing,  and  snuggled  close  up  around  it  is  hun- 


264  TOECHY 

dreds  of  these  four-fam'ly  wooden  tenements, 
gettin'  the  full  benefit  of  the  soft  coal  smoke  and 
makin'  it  easy  for  the  hands  to  pike  home  for 
a  noon  dinner.  Say,  you  talk  about  the  East 
Side  double  deckers;  but  they're  brownstone 
fronts  compared  to  some  of  these  corporation 
shacks  across  the  meadows ! 

Seventeen  dirty  kids  led  me  to  the  number 
Tuttle  gave  me,  and  in  the  right  hand  first  floor 
kitchen  I  finds  a  red  faced  woman  in  a  faded 
blue  wrapper  fryin'  salt  pork  and  cabbage. 

"  Mrs.  Tinkham  Tuttle?  "  says  I,  holdin'  my 
breath. 

"  No,"  says  she,  glancin'  suspicious  over  her 
shoulder.  "I'm  his  sister." 

"Oh!  "says  I.    "  Is  Tink  around?  " 

"  I  don't  know  whether  he  is  or  not,  and 
don 't  care !  ' '  says  she. 

"  Much  obliged,"  says  I;  "  but  I  ain't  come 
to  collect  for  anything.  Couldn't  you  give  a 
guess?  " 

"  If  I  did,"  says  she,  "I'd  say  he  was  over 
to  the  factory  yard.  That's  where  he  stays 
most  of  the  time." 

It's  half -past  five;  but  the  fact'ry's  runnin' 
full  blast,  and  I  has  to  jolly  a  timekeeper  and 
the  yard  boss  before  I  locates  my  man.  Fin'lly, 
though,  they  point  out  a  big  storage  shed  in  one 
corner  of  the  coal  cinder  desert  they  has  fenced 
in  so  careful.  The  wide  double  doors  to  the 


TOUCHING  ON  TINK  TUTTLE      265 

shed  are  shut;  but  after  I've  hammered  for 
a  while  one  of  'em  is  slid  back  a  few  inches  and 
Tuttle  peeks  out. 

'  *  Oh !  "he  gasps.  ' '  You !  Say,  are  they  go 
ing  to  take  it?  Are  they?  " 

"  Them's  the  indications,"  says  I,  "  pro- 
vidin'  it's  all  0.  K.  and  your  price  is  right." 

"  Oh,  I'll  make  the  price  low  enough,"  says 
he.  "  I'll  sell  out  for  two  thousand,  and  it 
ought  to  be  worth  twice  that.  But  two  is  all  I 
need." 

<4  Eh?  "  says  I.  "  What  kind  of  finance  do 
you  call  that?  Say,  Tuttle,  you  know  you  can't 
work  any  'phony  deal  on  the  Corrugated.  Bet 
ter  give  me  the  straight  goods  and  save 
trouble. ' ' 

11  I  will,"  says  he.    "  Come  in,  won't  you?  " 

With  that  he  leads  the  way  through  the  dark 
shed  to  a  sort  of  workshop  at  the  back,  where 
there's  a  window.  There's  a  tool  bench,  a  little 
hand  forge  with  an  old  coffee  pot  and  a  fryin' 
pan  on  it,  and  a  cot  bed  not  ten  feet  away. 

11  Campin'  out  here?  "  says  I. 

"I'm  not  supposed  to,"  says  he;  "  but  the 
yard  superintendent  lets  me.  This  is  where  I've 
lived  and  worked  for  nearly  two  years,  and  until 
you  came  a  minute  ago  it  was  where  I  expected 
to  end.  But  now  it's  different." 

"  It  is?  "  says  I.    "  How's  that?  " 

Which  is  Tink  Tuttle 's  cue  to  open  up  on  the 


266  TOECHY 

story  of  his  life.  It's  a  soggy,  unexcitin'  yarn, 
most  of  it.  As  I'd  kind  of  guessed  by  the  way 
he  talked,  he  wa'n't  just  an  ordinary  fact'ry 
hand.  He  'd  been  through  some  high  class  scien 
tific  school  up  in  Massachusetts,  where  he'd 
lived  before  his  father  lost  his  grip.  Seems  the 
old  man  was  a  cracker  jack  boss  machinist ;  but 
he  got  to  monkeyin'  with  fool  inventions,  drifted 
from  place  to  place,  got  to  be  a  lunger,  and 
finally  passed  in.  The  last  four  years  in  the 
fact'ry  here  had  finished  him.  Tink  had  worked 
there,  too,  and  his  sister  had  married  one  of 
the  hands. 

1 1  It 's  the  graveyard  of  the  Tuttle  family,  this 
place  is,  I  suppose,"  says  Tink.  "  It  got  father, 
and  it  has  almost  got  me.  Some  folks  can 
breathe  brass  filings  and  carbon  dioxid  and 
thrive  on  it;  but  we  can't.  So  I  gave  up  and 
hid  myself  away  in  here  to  work  out  one  of 
my  silly  dreams.  Last  spring  I  caught  a  bad 
cold,  and  Sister  sent  me  West.  There  we  have 
an  uncle.  She  thought  the  change  of  climate 
might  help  my  cough.  It  didn't  do  a  bit  of 
good ;  but  it  was  out  there  that  I  picked  up  this 
option.  That  was  when  I  saw  a  chance  of  mak 
ing  my  dream  come  true.  You  saw  what  I've 
been  building,  didn't  you,  as  we  came 
through?  " 

"  I  didn't  notice,"  says  I.  "  What  is  it,  any 
way?  " 


* '  Wait  until  I  light  the  lantern, ' '  says  Tuttle. 
11  Now  come.  This  way.  Don't  hit  your  head 
on  those  wings.  There!  " 

And,  say,  it's  a  wonder  I  could  walk  right  by 
a  thing  of  that  kind  without  gettin'  next,  even 
if  it  was  kind  of  dark.  But  all  I  needs  now  is 
one  glimpse  of  the  outlines. 

' '  Oho !  ' '  says  I.  "A  flyer !  Say,  every  bug 
house  in  the  country  is  at  work  on  one  of 
them." 

"  I  suppose  so,"  says  he.  "  I  may  be  as  big 
a  fool  as  any  of  them,  too;  but  I  think  I  know 
what  I'm  doing.  At  any  rate,  I've  put  my  last 

dollar  into  it.  That's  why  my  sister  is  so 

Well,  she  thinks  I  am— 

"  Yes,  I  suspicioned  she  was  some  sore  on 
you, ' '  says  I.  ' '  But  what  sort  of  a  flyer  is  this, 
double  or  single  winger  1  ' 

"  It's  a  biplane,"  says  Tuttle,  "  on  the  Farn- 
ham  type,  only  an  improved  model. ' ' 

"  Of  course  it's  improved,"  says  I.  "  Tried 
her  out  yet?  " 

"  Hardly,"  says  he.  "  I  couldn't  buy  an  en 
gine,  you  see.  That's  what  I've  been  waiting 
for.  Say,  you  really  think  the  Corrugated  will 
take  that  option,  do  you  ?  If  they  only  would !  ' : 

"  You  must  be  in  a  hurry  to  break  your 
neck, ' '  says  I. 

Before  I  left,  though,  he'd  shown  me  all  over 
the  thing,  explained  how  it  was  goin'  to  work, 


268  TOECHY 

and  did  his  best  to  get  me  as  excited  as  he  was. 
Also  I  makes  him  give  me  the  full  details  of 
how  he  come  to  get  this  option,  and  I  advises 
him,  if  he  does  manage  to  cash  it  in  for  two 
thousand,  to  take  an  ax  to  his  flying  machine 
and  hike  out  for  some, lung  preservin'  climate 
where  he'll  have  a  chance  to  shake  that  cough. 

11  Thanks,"  says  he,  grippin'  my  hand  and 
chokin'  up.  "  You — you've  been  mighty  good 
to  me.  I'll  remember  it." 

Course,  I  gives  Mr.  Ellins  the  whole  tale  in 
the  mornin',  about  Tuttle  and  his  bum  air 
pumps,  and  his  batty  scheme  of  buildin'  the 
flyer;  but  all  that  interests  Old  Hickory  is  the 
option  and  the  price. 

"  Good  work,  Torchy,"  says  he.  "  I've  wired 
our  Western  agents  to  investigate,  and  if  they 
report  an  0.  K.,  Tuttle  shall  have  his  two  thou 
sand  to  do  what  he  likes  with." 

It  must  have  been  two  weeks  later,  and  I'd 
almost  forgot  the  case,  when  one  mornin'  I  gets 
a  note  from  Tinkham  J.,  askin'  me  to  come  over 
to  the  shed  as  quick  as  I  could.  Well,  I  didn't 
know  whether  he  was  havin'  a  final  spasm  or 
not;  but  it  seemed  like  I  ought  to  go,  so  that 
night  I  does.  I  finds  him  waitin'  for  me  at  the 
yard  gate.  He  don't  look  any  worse  than  usual, 
either. 

11  Well,"  says  I,  "  didn't  the  deal  go 
through?  " 


TOUCHING  ON  TINK  TUTTLE     269 

"  It  did,"  says  he,  pattin'  me  on  the  back. 
"  Thanks  to  you,  it  did.  The  check  came  two 
days  later,  and  I've  spent  it  all." 

"  What!  "  says  I.  "  You  don't  mean  to  say 
you  blew  all  that  in  on  an  engine  for  that 
blamed — 

"  All  but  a  few  dollars  that  I  put  into  oil  and 
gasoline,"  says  he.  "  But  the  machine  is  ail 
hooked  up,  Torchy,  and  it  works.  Do  you  hear 
that!  It  works!  I Ve  been  up !  ' : 

"  Up?  "  says  I. 

'  *  Not  far, ' '  says  he ;  '  *  but  enough  to  know 
what  I  can  do.  Started  right  here  from  the 
yard,  just  at  daylight,  and  landed  here  again. 
I've  told  no  one  else,  you  know.  Come  in  and 
see  how  smooth  the  engine  works." 

And  it  was  just  while  he  was  gettin' 
ready  to  start  the  wheels  that  these  two 
strangers  butts  in  on  us.  One  is  a  husky,  red 
faced,  swell  dressed  young  sport,  and  the 
other  is  a  tall,  swivel  eyed,  middle  aged  gent 
dressed  in  khaki.  They  walks  around  the  ma 
chine  without  payin'  any  attention  to  me  or 
Tuttle. 

11  Well,  what  do  you  think  of  it,  Captain?  ' 
says  the  young  sport  after  a  while. 

The  Captain,  he  shakes  his  head.  "  I  can't 
tell  positively,"  says  he;  "  but  these  planes 
seem  to  me  to  be  set  entirely  wrong.  I  never 
saw  deflectors  worked  on  that  principle  before, 


270  TOECHY 

either.  The  theory  may  be  good ;  but  in  a  prac 
tical  test " 

' '  They  say  he 's  made  flight,  though, ' '  breaks 
in  the  young  sport.  * '  The  night  watchman  saw 
him.  Hey!  You're  the  chap  that  built  this 
aeroplane,  aren't  you?  " 

11  Yes,  sir,"  says  Tuttle. 

"  And  didn't  you  make  a  flight?  "  he  wants 
to  know. 

"  A  short  one,"  says  Tuttle. 

"  That's  enough  for  me,"  says  the  sport. 
"  Say,  you  know  who  I  am,  don't  you?  " 

11  Oh,  yes,"  says  Tuttle.  "  At  least,  I  ought 
to.  You're  Bradish  Jones,  Jr.,  one  of  the  own 
er's  sons." 

"  That's  right,"  says  young  Mr.  Jones. 
"  And  I  know  you.  You're  the  son  of  old  Tut 
tle,  who  used  to  be  foreman  of  the  machine  shop 
when  I  was  doing  my  apprentice  work.  Thought 
this  little  trick  of  yours  was  a  secret,  didn't 
you?  But  I  heard  about  it.  Lucky  for  you  I 
did,  too.  I'm  in  the  market.  I  don't  care  a  hoot 
what  the  Captain  says,  either.  I  want  a  flyer, 
and  I'm  ready  to  take  a  chance  on  yours.  What 
do  you  want  for  it  ?  " 

"  Why,"  says  Tuttle,  "  I  don't  believe  I  want 
to  sell." 

"  What's  that?  "  snaps  Bradish.  "  Come, 
now!  Don't  try  to  bluff  me!  I'll  admit  I'm  in 
a  hurry.  These  Curtiss  people  have  been  hold' 


TOUCHING-  ON  TINK  TUTTLE     271 

ing  me  off  for  a  month,  and  I  want  to  begin 
flying  right  away.  So  name  your  price.  How 
much?  " 

But  Tuttle,  he  only  shakes  his  head. 

"  Oh,  yes,  you  will,"  says  Bradish.  "  Why, 
you've  hardly  a  dollar  to  your  name.  You  can't 
afford  to  own  a  flyer,  even  if  you  did  build  it. 
You  know  you  can't.  Now  show  me  what  it 
cost  you,  and  I'll  give  you  a  thousand  for  your 
work  and  a  hundred  a  week  until  I  learn  to 
manage  the  thing.  Is  it  a  go  1  " 

* '  No !  "  says  Tuttle,  sharp  and  quick,  them 
big  eyes  of  his  fairly  blazin'.  "  This  is  my  ma 
chine,  and  I'm  going  to  fly  it.  I  don't  care  how 
much  money  you've  got.  You've  taken  a  sud 
den  whim  that  you'd  like  to  fly.  It's  been  the 
one  dream  of  my  life.  You've  had  your  yachts 
and  your  racing  cars.  I've  never  had  anything 
but  hard  work.  My  father  wore  himself  out  in 
your  stinking  old  factory.  I  nearly  did  the 
the  same.  But  you  can't  rob  me  of  this.  You 
sha'n't,  that's  all!  " 

And  for  a  minute  them  two  stood  there  givin' 
each  other  the  assault  and  batt'ry  stare,  with 
out  sayin'  a  word.  A  queer  lookin'  pair  they 
made,  too ;  this  Bradish  gent,  big  and  beefy  and 
prosperous,  and  Tink  Tuttle,  his  greasy  old  coat 
hangin'  loose  on  his  skinny  shoulders,  and 
lookin'  like  he  was  on  his  way  from  the  accident 
ward  to  the  coroner's  office. 


272  TORCHY 

"  Five  thousand  cash,  then,"  growls  Mr. 
Jones. 

"  Not  if  you  said  fifty!  "  Tink  comes  back  at 
him. 

* '  Bah !  ' '  says  Bradish.  * '  Why,  I  could  have 
you  and  your  machine  thrown  out  in  the  road 
this  minute.  But  I'll  give  you  twenty- four 
hours  to  think  it  over.  Remember,  to-morrow 
night  at  six  I'll  be  here  with  the  money.  Then 
it  will  be  either  sell  or  go.  Come,  Captain, ' ' 
and  with  that  they  pikes  out. 

"  Say,  Tink,"  says  I,  "  you  got  him  comin', 
all  right,  and  if  you  don't  get  that  five  thousand 
you're  no  good." 

"  I  know  I'm  no  good,"  says  Tuttle. 
"  That's  why  I  don't  want  his  money." 

"  But  see  here,  Tink,"  says  I.  "  You  ain't 
goin'  to  turn  down  an  offer  like  that,  are  you?  ' 

"  I  am,"  says  he,  "  and  I'll  tell  you  why. 
It's  because  I  know  I'm  no  good  and  never 
would  be  any  good,  even  if  I  could  live,  which 
I  can't.  Oh,  I  don't  need  any  doctor  to  tell  me 
how  much  longer  I've  got.  They  gave  me  only 
three  months  over  a  year  ago.  I  knew  better. 
I  knew  I  should  hold  out  until  I  finished  my 
flyer.  Father  didn't  have  anything  like  that  to 
keep  on  for;  so  he  went  quicker.  He  didn't 
want  to  go,  either.  And  it  was  awful  to  watch 
him,  Torchy,  just  awful!  But  I'm  not  going  to 
finish  that  way.  No,  not  now,"  and  he  walks 


TOUCHING  ON  TINK  TUTTLE      273 

up  to  the  machine  and  runs  his  hand  loving 
along  one  of  the  smooth  planes. 

"  How's  that?  "  says  I.  "  What  are  you 
drivin'  at,  Tink?  " 

"  I  can't  tell  you  how  I  shall  do  it  exactly," 
says  he;  "  for  I'm  not  sure.  But  I  mean  to 
go  up  once;  way,  way  up,  out  over  the  ocean, 
just  at  sunrise.  Won't  that  be  fine,  eh?  Just 
think!  Sailing  off  up  there  into  the  blue;  up, 
and  up,  and  up;  higher  than  anyone  has  ever 
dared  to  go  before,  higher  and  higher,  until 
your  gasoline  gives  out  and  you  can't  go  any 
more!  " 

"  Yes;  but  what  then?  "  says  I,  beginnin'  to 
feel  some  chilly  along  the  spine. 

"  Why,  that's  enough,  isn't  it?  "  says  he. 
11  Anyway,  it's  all  I  ask.  I'll  call  it  all  quits 
then." 

"  Ah,  say,  cut  out  the  tragedy!  "  says  I. 
"  You  give  me  the  creeps,  talkin'  that  rot! 
What  you  want  to  do  is  to  go  up  for  a  short 
sail,  if  you  can,  forget  to  try  any  Hamilton 
stunts,  and  then  beat  it  back  to  collect  that  five 
thousand  while  the  collecting  good.  Say,  when 
do  you  try  her  again?  " 

"  At  daylight  to-morrow  morning,"  says  he. 

"  Gee!  "  says  I.  "  I've  got  a  notion  to  stick 
around  and  watch  how  you  come  out." 

' l  No,  don 't, ' '  says  he.  ' '  I — I  '11  let  you  know. 
Yes,  honest  I  will.  Goodnight  and — goodby." 


274  TOECHY 

He  kept  his  word  as  well  as  he  could,  too. 
The  postmark  on  the  card  was  six  A.  M.  ;  but 
I  guess  it  must  have  been  dropped  in  the  box 
earlier  than  that.  All  it  says  is : 

Twenty  gallons  in  the  tank,  and  I'm  off  at  four  o'clock.    I  shall 
•  go  straight  out  to  sea  and  then  up,  up.     I've  never  been  much 
good ;  but  I  mean  to  finish  in  style.  T.  T. 

Now,  what  would  you  say  to  a  batty  proposi 
tion  like  that?  I  couldn't  tell  whether  it  was  a 
bluff,  or  what.  And  I  waits  four  days  before 
I  had  the  nerve  to  go  and  see. 

Sister  says  she  ain't  seen  him  since  last  Mon 
day.  And  there  was  no  flyer  in  the  shed.  No 
body  around  the  place  knew  what  had  become 
of  it,  either. 

"Well,  it's  been  two  weeks  since  I  got  that 
postal.  What  do  I  think?  Say,  honest,  I  don't 
dare.  But  at  night,  when  I'm  tryin'  to  get  to 
sleep,  I  can  see  Tink,  sittin'  in  between  all  them 
wires  and  things,  with  the  wheel  in  his  hand, 
and  them  big  eyes  of  his  gazin'  down  calm  and 
satisfied,  down,  down,  down,  and  him  ready  to 
take  that  one  last  dip  to  the  finish.  And,  say, 
,  about  then  I  pull  the  sheets  up  over  my  eyes 
and  shiver. 

"  Piddie,"  says  I,  "  you  got  more  sense  than 
you  look  to  have.  Anyway,  you  know  when  to 
sidestep  the  nutty  ones,  don't  you?  " 


CHAPTER  xvrn 

GETTING   HEEMES   ON   THE   BOUNCE 

ANYBODY  might  of  thought,  to  see  me  sittin' 
there  in  the  Ellins  lib'ry,  leanin'  back  luxurious 
in  a  big  red  leather  chair  lookin'  over  the  latest 
magazines,  that  I'd  been  promoted  from  head 
office  boy  to  heir  apparent  or  something  like 
that.  I  expect  some  kids  would  have  stood  on 
one  leg  in  the  front  hall  and  held  their  breath; 
but  why  not  make  yourself  to  home  when  you 
get  the  chance?  I  knew  the  boss  was  takin'  his 
time  goin'  through  all  them  papers  I'd  brought 
up,  and  that  when  he  finished  he'd  send  down 
word  if  there  was  any  instructions  to  go  back. 

That 's  how  I  come  to  get  the  benefit  of  all  this 
mushy  conversation  that  begins  to  drift  out 
from  the  next  room.  First  off  I  couldn't  make 
out  whether  it  was  some  one  havin'  a  tooth 
'plugged,  or  if  it  was  a  case  of  a  mouse  bein' 
loose  at  a  tea  party.  Course,  the  squeals  and 
giggles  I  could  place  as  comin'  from  Miss  Mar- 
jorie  Ellins.  Maybe  you  remember  about  Mr. 
Robert's  heavyweight  young  sister  that  wanted 
to  play  Juliet  once? 

275 


276  TOECHY 

But  who  the  other  party  was  I  didn't  have 
an  idea,  except  that  from  the  "  you-alls  "  she 
was  usin'  I  knew  she  must  hail  from  somewhere 
south  of  Baltimore. 

Anyway,  they  seemed  to  be  too  much  excited 
to  sit  down  while  they  talked,  and  the  first  thing 

I  knew  they'd  drifted  into  the  lib'ry,  their  arms 
twined  around  each  other  in  a  reg'lar  schoolgirl 
clinch,  and  the  conversation  just  bubblin'  out 
of  'em  free. 

Miss  Marjorie  was  all  got  up  classy  in  pink 
and  white,  and  she  sure  does  look  like  a  wide, 
corn  fed  Venus.  The  other  is  a  slim,  willowy 
young  lady  with  a  lot  of  home  grown  blond  hair, 
a  cute  chin  dimple,  and  a  pair  of  big  dark  eyes 
with  a  natural  rovin'  disposition.  And  she's 
hobble  skirted  to  the  point  where  her  feet  was 
about  as  much  use  as  if  they'd  been  tied  in  a 
bag. 

It  was  some  kind  of  a  long  winded  story  she 
was  tellin'  very  confidential,  with  Marjorie  sup- 
plyin'  the  exclamation  points. 

"  Eeally,  now,  was  he,  Mildred?  "  says  Mar 
jorie. 

"  'Deed  and  'deedy,  he  was!  "  says  Mildred. 

II  Positively  the  handsomest  man  I  ever  saw! 
I  thought  I  could  forget  him;  but  I  couldn't, 
Madge,  I  couldn't!    And  only  think,  he  is  com 
ing  this  very  night,  and  not  a  soul  knows  but 
just  us  two!  " 


HERMES  ON  THE  BOUNCE   277 

"Excuse  me,"  says  I;  "but  I'm  Number 
Three." 

"  Oh,  oh!  "  they  both  squeals  at  once. 

"  Who — who's  that!  "  whispers  Mildred. 

"  Why,  it's  only  Torchy,  from  Papa's  office," 
says  Mar jorie.  ' '  And  oh,  Mildred !  He  is  the 
very  one  to  help  us!  You  will  now,  won't  you, 
Torchy?  Come,  that's  a  dear!  " 

"  Please  do,  Torchy!  "  says  Mildred,  snug- 
glin'  up  on  the  other  side  and  pattin'  my  red 
hair  soothin'. 

'  *  Ah,  say,  reverse  English  on  the  tootsy  busi 
ness!  "  says  I.  "  This  ain't  any  heart-throb 
matinee.  G'wan!  " 

"  Why,  Torchy!  "  says  Mar  jorie,  real  coax- 
in'.  "I  thought  we  were  such  good  friends!  " 

"  Well,  I'm  willin'  to  let  it  go  that  far,"  says 
I;  "  but  don't  try  to  ring  in  any  folksy  stran 
gers.  I'm  here  on  business  for  the  firm." 

Just  then  too  down  comes  the  maid  sayin' 
there  wa'n't  anything  to  go  back;  so  I  starts  to 
beat  it. 

I  didn't  get  far,  though,  with  a  hundred  and 
ninety  pound  young  lady  blockin'  the  doorway. 

"  Torchy,  you  must  help  us!  "  says  Mar- 
jorie.  "  There  isn't  anyone  else  we  can  ask. 
And  you're  always  doing  such  clever  things  for 
Papa  and  Brother  Bob!  ': 

Say,  it  was  a  puffy  lot  of  hot  air  she  hands 
out;  but  I  admit  that  after  two  or  three  more 


278  TOBCHY 

speeches  like  that,  and  with  her  promisin'  to 
square  anything  Piddie  might  have  to  say  about 
not  comin'  back,  she  had  me  goin'. 

"  Well,  what's  the  proposition?  "  says  I. 

"  Let's  tell  him  all,  so  he  will  understand 
just  what  he's  to  do,"  suggests  Marjorie. 

And,  say,  you  should  have  heard  them  two, 
with  me  pinned  in  between  'em  on  the  couch, 
givin'  me  the  tale  in  a  sort  of  chorus,  both 
talkin'  to  once  and  beginnin'  at  diff'rent 
ends. 

11  It's  such  a  romance!  "  squeals  Marjorie. 

"  You  see,  he's  coming  to-night,"  says  Mil 
dred,  "  and  nobody  knows." 

"  Yes,  I  got  that  all  down,"  says  I;  "  but 
what's  the  first  part?  Who  is  he  and  where 's 
he  from?  " 

Well,  it's  some  yarn,  all  right!  Seems  that 
Mildred  was  a  boardin'  school  chum  of  Mar 
jorie 's  who'd  come  up  from  Atlanta  to  spend 
the  summer  with  friends  in  Newport.  As  a 
wind-up  to  the  season  they'd  taken  her  on  a 
yachtin'  trip  up  the  coast.  Such  a  poky  old 
trip,  too !  Nobody  aboard  but  old  married  folks 
that  played  bridge  all  the  time,  and  one  bald 
headed  bachelor  who  couldn't  sit  out  in  the 
moonlight  with  her  unless  he  was  wrapped  up 
in  a  steamer  rug. 

So  what  was  a  girl  with  eyes  like  Mildred's 
to  do,  anyway?  She  was  bein'  bored  to  death, 


HERMES  ON  THE  BOUNCE   279 

when,  as  luck  would  have  it,  something  went 
wrong  with  the  propeller  shaft.  The  yacht  was 
'way  up  off  the  coast  of  Maine  at  the  time,  and 
the  nearest  place  where  it  was  safe  to  anchor 
was  in  the  lee  of  a  barren,  dinky  little  island. 
And  they  stays  there  three  whole  days,  while 
the  crew  tinkers  things  up  below  and  the  folks 
yawn  their  heads  off. 

All  but  Millie.  She  got  so  desp'rate  she 
rowed  ashore  all  by  herself.  Accordin'  to  her 
description,  that  must  have  been  a  perfectly 
punk  little  island.  It  was  all  rock,  except  in 
a  few  spots  where  there  was  some  scrub  bushes 
and  mangy  grass.  Plunk  in  the  middle  was  an 
old  shack  of  a  house  surrounded  by  lobster  pots 
and  racks  of  codfish  spread  out  to  dry,  and  she 
says  it  was  the  smelliest  scenery  she'd  ever  got 
real  close  to. 

But  Mildred  was  sore  on  the  yacht  and  all 
the  stupid  folks  on  it;  so  she  wanders  out  to 
windward  of  the  worst  smells,  plants  herself  on 
the  flattest  rock  she  can  find,  and  prepares  to 
read.  That's  her  pose  when  she  looks  up  and 
discovers  this  male  party  with  the  sun  kissed 
locks  and  the  dreamy  eyes  standin'  there  gazin' 
at  her  curious. 

"  It  wasn't  Adonis  that  I  called  him,"  says 
Mildred.  "  Who  was  that  stunning  old  Greek 
that  we  had  the  bust  of  in  the  school  library, 
Madge?  " 


280  TOECHY 

"  Hermes?  "  says  Marjorie. 

"  That's  it !  "  says  Mildred.  "  He  was  a  per 
fect  Hermes;  only  his  curly  hair  was  all  sun 
bleached,  and  his  face  was  tanned  a  lovely 
brown,  and  he  had  big,  broad  shoulders,  and — 
and  he  was  smoking  a  pipe. ' ' 

' '  And  about  his  eyes !  ' '  prompts  Marjorie. 

"  Oh,  they  were  perfectly  stunning,"  says 
she,  "  real  sea  blue." 

Well,  anybody  that  ever  read  a  midsummer 
fiction  number  could  have  supplied  the  next 
chapters.  Here's  the  lovely  city  girl,  the  noble 
browed  but  unsuspectin'  native,  golden  summer 
days,  and  no  competition.  Why,  with  a  catchy 
title  and  a  few  mushy  pictures  it  would  make 
a  lovely  contribution  to  one  of  the  leadin'  thirty- 
five-centers,  just  as  it  stood.  And  Mildred 
knew  her  cue,  all  right.  She  trains  them  front 
row  eyes  of  hers  on  him,  opens  up  with  a  few 
lines  of  lively  chatter,  and  inside  of  half  an  hour 
she  has  him  sittin'  picturesque  at  her  feet, 
callin'  him  Hermes  of  the  Lobster  Pots,  and 
otherwise  workin'  the  siren  spell. 

"  You  must  have  flirted  horribly  with 
him,"  says  Marjorie,  sighin'  deep  and 
admirin'. 

"  What  else  could  one  do?  "  asks  Mildred. 
1 1  And  it  was  such  fun !  I  could  get  him  to  say 
hardly  anything  about  himself;  but  he  was  a 
charming  listener.  He  would  sit  and  gaze  at 


HERMES  ON  THE  BOUNCE    281 

me  in  the  most  soulful,  appreciative  way.    Poor 
chap!  " 

He  must  have  had  her  guessin '  some  at  that ; 
for  she  wa'n't  dead  sure  whether  he  was  a  real 
native  or  not  until  the  boss  of  the  island  shows 
up.  He's  a  hump  shouldered,  leather  faced, 
bushy  browed  old  barnacle,  with  a  Down  East 
dialect  that  it  was  a  dream  to  listen  to,  and  it 
was  only  when  Mildred  heard  Hermes  call  him 
Uncle  Jerry  that  she  could  believe  the  two  was 
any  relation.  Uncle  Jerry  didn't  interfere, 
though.  He  let  'em  moon  around  on  the  rocks 
without  disturbin'  the  game,  and  I  judge  from 
Millie's  report  that  she  wa'n't  missin'  any 
tricks. 

Yet  she's  right  there  with  the  heartless  be 
havior  when  the  time  comes,  sailin'  away  with 
a  gay  laugh  and  leavin'  her  blue  eyed  young 
lobster  man  to  yearn  and  mourn  there  on  his 
smelly  little  island.  Anyway,  that's  how  she 
had  it  doped  out. 

And  it  wa'n't  until  weeks  later,  when  she'd 
had  her  snapshots  of  him  developed  and  printed, 
and  got  to  summin'  up  the  details  in  this  case  of 
Victim  B-23,  that  she  discovers  how  a  few  of 
her  own  heartstrings  has  been  strained.  Some 
how,  she  couldn't  seem  to  tear  them  three  Au 
gust  days  completely  off  the  calendar;  and 
when  the  other  chappies  come  buzzin'  around, 
and  she  had  a  chance  to  frame  'em  up  alongside 


282  TOECHY 

of  this  fish,  island  hero,  there  wa'n't  but  one 
answer.  It  was  Hermes  for  hers,  every  day  in 
the  week! 

There  he  was,  though,  out  on  that  mussy 
rock;  and  here  she  was,  visitin'  in  New  York, 
leadin'  the  giddy  life,  and  gettin'  her  gowns 
ready  for  the  Horse  Show.  If  Millie  had  passed 
out  the  heartaches  casual  along  her  former 
trails,  here  was  where  she  gets  at  least  one  of 
'em  back  on  the  rebound. 

You  can  guess  how  bad  an  attack  she  had 
when  she  crosses  all  the  new  Reggie  boys  off 
her  string  and  cooks  up  this  scheme  of  sendin' 
for  Hermes  to  come  to  her.  Her  excuse  is  that 
she  wants  Uncle  Jerry  to  have  the  trip  of  his 
life  by  coming  to  the  great  city ;  but  incident  'lly 
she  urges  him  to  bring  his  blue  eyed  nephew 
along,  and  the  check  she  sends  is  big  enough 
to  cover  expenses  for  both.  Bein'  one  of  the 
impulsive  kind,  she  does  it  the  minute  the  notion 
strikes  her ;  and  two  days  later  comes  this  postal 
from  Uncle  Jerry,  sayin'  how  he  was  much 
obliged,  and  him  and  his  nevvy  was  takin' 
the  boat  for  Bosting  and  expected  to  fetch 
up  in  New  York  sometime  next  afternoon  by 
train. 

11  Which  is  now,"  says  Mildred.  "  But  of 
course  I  can't  go  to  the  Grand  Central  to  meet 
him." 

11  Why  not?  "  says  I.    "  Why  balk  at  a  little 


HERMES  ON  THE  BOUNCE    283 

thing  like  that  when  you've  been  doin'  so 
well?  " 

"  Oh,  but,  Torchy,"  chimes  in  Marjorie,  "  you 
know  you  could  do  it  so  much  better !  ' ' 

And  what  with  both  of  them  coaxin',  and 
stuffin'  expense  money  into  my  pockets,  the  next 
thing  I  know  I'm  on  my  way  down  to  where 
the  Boston  trains  come  in,  and  am  camp  in'  out 
side  the  gate.  I  nearly  wore  my  eyes  out,  too, 
sizin'  up  the  first  trainload,  and  after  an  hour's 
wait  I  was  gettin'  dizzy  keepin'  track  of  the  sec 
ond  lot,  when  all  of  a  sudden  I  spots  this  old 
chap  with  the  thick  underbrush  over  his  eyes 
and  the  sole  leather  complexion. 

"  Oh,  you  Uncle  Jerry!  "  I  sings  out,  takin' 
a  chance  and  pushin'  through  the  crowd  with  my 
hand  out. 

"  Wall,  how  be  ye?  "  says  he,  real  hearty. 
"  Don't  remember  seein'  you  afore;  but  I 
s'pose  it's  all  right." 

"  Sure  it  is,  old  scout,"  says  I.  "If  you're 
Uncle  Jerry,  I'm  Miss  Mildred's  reception 
committee;  but  where 's  the  nephew?  ' 

"  That's  him,"  says  he,  jerkin'  his  thumb  at 
a  big,  overgrown,  tow  haired  yawp  that's  trail- 
in'  along  in  the  rear  luggin'  a  canvas  valise. 

"  You  don't  mean  to  tell  me  that's  Hermes?  " 
says  I. 

"  I  dun 'no  'bout  any  Hermes,"  says  he;  "  but 
this  is  my  sister's  boy  Jake,  the  only  nephew 


284  TOECHY 

I  got,  and,  bein'  as  how  Miss  Mildred  asked  so 
special,  I  brought  him  along." 

Course,  there's  no  accountin'  for  tastes,  spe 
cially  in  a  romantic  young  lady  like  her;  but, 
if  this  was  her  idea  of  livin'  Greek  statuary, 
she  sure  was  easy  pleased.  Why,  of  all  the 
rough  necked  Rubes!  He's  one  of  these  loose 
jawed,  open  mouthed,  lop  sided  youths  that 
walks  like  he  was  afraid  of  steppin'  on  his  own 
feet,  and  looks  about  as  much  alive  as  a  tin 
rabbit  that  can  wiggle  its  ears  when  you  pull 
a  string.  His  hair  and  complexion  was  ac- 
cordin'  to  specifications,  I  admit,  and  his  eyes 
were  as  blue  as  a  new  set  of  lunch  counter 
crockery;  and  if  he  was  all  Uncle  Jerry  could 
show  in  the  nephew  line,  then  he  must  be  it. 

"All  right,"  says  I.  "It  ain't  me  that's 
pickin'  him.  Now  fall  in  line  right  behind  me, 
and  we'll  work  out  where  he  won't  get  run  down 
by  baggage  trucks  or  be  mistaken  by  excursion 
ists  for  a  spray  of  autumn  leaves." 

"  Young  lady  didn't  come  down  to  the  train, 
hey?  "  says  Uncle  Jerry. 

i '  No,  it  makes  her  kind  of  nervous  to  see  the 
cars  come  in,"  says  I.  "  You're  due  to  meet 
her  this  evenin',  Uncle,  you  and  Hermes." 

You  see,  accordin'  to  the  plan,  I  was  to  stow 
the  pair  to  some  hotel,  see  that  they  was  fed, 
keep  'em  busy  durin'  the  early  part  of  the 
evenin',  and  round  'em  up  at  a  big  society 


HERMES  ON  THE  BOUNCE   285 

crush  where  Marjorie  knew  the  folks  well 
enough  so  she  could  ask  favors.  If  Mildred  had 
'em  come  where  she  was  visitin',  there 'd  be  no 
end  of  questions  asked;  but  if  she  sort  of  ran 
across  'em  by  accident  at  a  place  where  there 
was  a  crowd,  and  could  have  a  few  words  with 
Hermes  in  some  quiet  corner,  nobody  would  be 
the  wiser. 

It  was  this  last  part  of  the  programme  I  had 
in  mind  as  I  was  sizin'  up  Jake's  travelin'  cos 
tume.  And,  say,  how  is  it  up  there  in  the 
opodeldoc  zone  that  they  can  get  these  high- 
water  pant  legs  to  fit  so  much  like  lengths  of 
stovepipe?  They  was  kind  of  a  bilious  brown 
and  cut  gen'rous  in  the  seat;  but,  as  far  as  real 
comic  relief  went,  they  wa'n't  in  it  with  the 
cute  little  short  tailed  cutaway  that  he  sported 
above  'em.  Honest,  that  coat  was  enough  to 
make  an  eccentric  song  and  dance  artist  green 
in  the  eyes!  And  you  can  believe  me  when  I 
say  I  didn't  lose  any  time  in  scootin'  'em  down 
Fourth-ave.  to  a  dollar  a  day  house  patronized 
by  some  of  our  swellest  Texas  buyers.  My  next 
move  is  to  make  a  report  over  the  'phone. 

11  Yep,  I  got  'em  both  under  lock  and  key," 
says  I  to  Marjorie.  "  Trouble  to  pick  em  out? 
Ah,  it  was  a  pipe!  Specimens  like  that  ain't  so 
common  anyone  could  get  mixed  if  they  knew 
what  day  to  look  for  'em.  Yes,  the  nephew's 
along,  all  right.  His  real  name  is  Jake.  Well, 


286  TOECHY 

Hermes  if  you  insist.  But,  say,  ask  Miss  Mil 
dred  if  she  wants  him  delivered  in  the  original 
package,  or  should  I  hire  some  open  face  clothes 
for  him." 

The  decision  is  that  Hermes  must  come  in  a 
dress  suit,  and  if  he  ain't  got  any  with  him 
Marjorie  will  send  down  one  of  Mr.  Robert's 
old  ones. 

"  Oh,  I'm  just  dying  to  see  him  in  evening 
clothes!  "  gushes  Mildred  over  the  wire.  "  I 
know  he'll  be  perfectly  splendid!  ' 

"  Maybe,"  says  I.  "  Only  don't  forget  the 
collar  buttons  and  studs  for  the  dress  shirt." 

Say,  I  won't  dwell  on  the  gay  time  I  had 
tryin'  to  keep  that  pair  out  of  sight  until  after 
dinner.  Honest,  if  I'd  been  drivin'  the  monkey 
cage  in  a  circus  parade  I'd  felt  a  lot  better; 
for  every  fresh  gink  that  pipes  off  that  vaude 
ville  costume  of  Jake's  has  to  have  his  say  about 
it.  At  the  hash  house  where  I  steers  'em  up 
against  a  twenty-five-cent  course  dinner  all  the 
girl  waiters  got  to  gigglin'  like  they'd  never 
seen  a  freak  before. 

It  wouldn't  have  been  so  bad  with  just  Uncle 
Jerry,  for  he's  wearin'  an  old  black  whipcord 
that  would  pass  in  the  dark,  and,  outside  the 
rubber  collar  and  the  plated  watch  chain  looped 
across  his  vest,  he  didn't  have  the  crossroads 
tag  on  him  very  plain;  but  Jake  might  as  well 
have  had  cowbells  tied  to  him.  Maybe  I  wa'n't 


HEEMES  ON  THE  BOUNCE    287 

some  relieved  too  when  we  got  back  to  the  hotel 
and  found  this  outfit  that  the  girls  had  scraped 
together  and  sent  down. 

"  Now  we'll  fix  you  up  for  the  theater  and 
high  society,  Jake,"  says  I.  "  By  rights  you 
ought  to  have  some  of  that  neck  hemp  sheared 
off;  but  I  don't  dare  let  a  barber  loose  at  you, 
for  fear  Mildred  wouldn't  know  you  after  he 
got  through.  She  raved  a  lot  about  that  hair 
of  yours,  Jake." 

11  You  go  on  now,  Smarty!  "  says  Jaky  boy, 
grinnin'  expansive.  "  Think  I'm  goin'  to  wear 
duds  like  them?  " 

11  You  do  if  you  appear  out  again  with  me," 
says  I.  "So  peel  the  butternut  regalia  and 
lemme  see  if  I  can  harness  you  up  in  these." 

"  Hee-haw!  "  remarks  Uncle  Jerry.  "  Let 
him  fix  you  up  real  harnsome,  Jake." 

Maybe  that's  what  I  did;  but  I  wouldn't  want 
to  swear  to  it.  Anyway,  I  got  him  into  the 
dress  shirt  by  main  strength.  That  was  the  first 
struggle.  Then,  while  Uncle  Jerry  held  him 
gaspin'  and  groanin'  on  the  floor,  I  buttoned  the 
high  collar  on  and  fastened  the  white  tie.  Next 
we  ended  him  up  on  his  feet  and  pulled  on  the 
display  vest  and  the  long  tailed  coat. 

"  Ug-g-gh!  It  chokes  some  thin'  awful!  " 
says  Jake,  gettin'  purple  faced  and  panicky. 

"  Ah,  close  that  pie  gangway  of  yours  and 
breathe  natural  for  a  minute!  "  says  L 


288  TOECHY 

"  There,  you're  feelin'  better  already.  Come, 
pull  them  knobby  wrists  back  up  into  your 
sleeves.  This  ain't  no  swimmin'  lesson,  you 
know.  Say,  you  wear  a  dress  suit  like  it  was 
so  much  tin  armor.  What's  the  matter  with 
you,  anyway !  ' ' 

"  I — I  don't  know,"  says  Jake,  tryin'  to 
stretch  his  head  up  like  a  turkey.  "  I  don't 
like  this." 

11  You  look  it,"  says  I.  "  But  think  who's 
goin'  to  see  you  in  it  later!  First  off,  though, 
you're  goin'  to  a  show  with  me.  Come  on, 
now;  maybe  you'll  get  used  to  bein'  dressed 
up  by  eleven  o'clock." 

* '  'Leven  o  'clock !  ' '  says  Uncle  Jerry.  ' '  Look 
here,  Son,  I  ain't  in  the  habit  of  stayin'  up  all 
night,  remember.  I'll  be  droppin'  off  to  sleep 
for  sartin '. ' ' 

He  don't,  though.  All  through  the  play,  which 
has  been  a  two  years'  scream  for  Broadway, 
he  sat  as  solemn  as  if  he  was  on  a  coroner's 
jury  in  the  presence  of  the  remains.  Play  actin' 
was  new  to  Uncle  Jerry;  but  he  wa'n't  going  to 
give  himself  away,  and  he  was  just  as  wide 
awake  as  anybody  in  the  house. 

With  Jake  it  was  different.  I  expect  them 
washed  out  blue  eyes  of  his  had  taken  in  so 
many  new  scenes  since  mornin'  that  they 
couldn't  absorb  any  more.  Anyway,  he  gets 
drowsy  before  the  curtain  goes  up,  and  after 


HERMES  ON  THE  BOUNCE    289 

he's  twisted  his  neck  until  he's  got  it  collar 
broken  he  settles  back  for  a  comf ' table  snooze. 
He  looks  so  calm  and  peaceful  I  didn't  have  the 
heart  to  disturb  him,  and  I  only  jabbed  my 
elbows  in  his  ribs  when  he  got  to  tunin'  up  the 
nose  music  too  loud.  Besides,  I  was  hopin' 
a  little  nap  of  two  or  three  hours  might  leave 
him  some  refreshed  and  in  better  shape  for 
exhibitin'  to  Miss  Mildred.  For  the  more  I  saw 
of  Jake,  the  less  I  could  understand  how  a  real 
live  one  like  Millie  could  stand  for  three  days 
of  him,  even  if  she  did  discover  him  on  a  desert 
island.  And  as  for  ravin'  about  him  afterwards 
— well,  you  never  can  tell,  can  you? 

After  the  play  it  took  Uncle  Jerry  shakin' 
on  one  side  and  me  on  the  other  to  bring  Jake 
back  to  life  from  his  woodsawin'  act. 

"  Ah,  quit  it  and  give  the  orchestra  a 
chance !  ' '  says  I.  * '  And  keep  them  elbows 
down !  Don't  try  to  stretch  here ;  wait  until  you 
get  back  to  the  open  fields  for  that.  Yes,  it's 
all  over,  and  you're  about  to  butt  into  society; 
so  for  Heaven's  sake  come  out  of  the  trance!  r 

Not  havin'  a  stretcher  handy,  we  drags  him 
out  to  the  curb,  and  I  blows  some  more  of  my 
expense  account  against  a  taxi,  which  lands  us 
safe  and  sound  at  this  Fifth-ave.  number  up  in 
the  70 's.  "  Guests  of  Miss  Marjorie  Ellins," 
was  to  be  the  password,  and  the  flunky  in  satin 
pants  at  the  door  seems  to  have  been  well  posted. 


290  TOECHY 

"  Yes,  sir;  right  this  way,  sir,"  says  he, 
wavin'  us  down  the  hall  and  shootin'  us  into 
a  little  conservatory  nook.  "  The  gentlemen 
from  Maine  are  to  wait  here,  and  you  are  to 
meet  Miss  Ellins  at  the  foot  of  the  grand  stair 
case.  She  will  be  down  in  a  moment,  sir." 

11  I  get  you,"  says  I,  and,  after  cautionin' 
Jake  to  keep  on  his  feet  until  I  came  back,  I 
slips  out  and  posts  myself  behind  a  potted  palm 
where  I  could  watch  the  early  arrivals  comin' 
down  from  the  cloakrooms. 

It  wa'n't  a  long  wait;  for  pretty  soon  down 
floats  Mildred  and  Marjorie,  all  got  up  in  flossy 
party  dresses  and  fairly  quiverin'  with  excite 
ment. 

' '  Oh,  you  dear  boy !  ' '  gushes  Millie.  * '  And 
he  is  really  here,  is  he?  My  splendid  Hermes! 
Tell  me,  what  did  he  have  to  say  about  it 
all?  " 

"  Who,  Jake?  "  says  I.  "  Mostly  he  was 
beefin'  about  the  way  his  neck  ached  from  the 
collar. ' ' 

"  Isn't  that  just  like  a  man!  "  says  Marjorie. 

"  I  don't  care,"  says  Mildred.  "  I  am  just 
crazy  to  see  him  once  more.  I  want  to  look  into 
his  eyes  and— 

"  Then  step  lively,"  says  I,  "  before  they  get 
glued  up  for  good.  Down  this  way.  Here  you 
are,  in  there  among  the  palms!  See,  there's 
Uncle  Jerry  rubberin'  around!  " 


HERMES  ON  THE  BOUNCE        291 

"Oh,  yes!'  squeals  Millie,  clappin'  her 
hands.  "  Dear  old  Uncle  Jerry!  But — but, 
Torchy,  where  is — er — his  nephew!  " 

"  Eh?  "  says  I.  "  Why,  there  on  the  bench, 
doin'  the  yawn  act!  " 

* '  Wha-a-a-at !  '  gasps  Millie,  steppin'  in 
for  a  closer  look. 

"  Straight  goods,"  says  I.  "  That's  Hermes 
the  lobster  picker." 

"  That!  "  says  Mildred,  shrinkin'  back. 
"  Never!  " 

"Huh!"  says  I.  "I  told  him  you 
wouldn't  know  him  if  he  didn't  keep  that 
face  cavity  of  his  closed.  He's  been  doin' 
that  since  eight  o'clock.  But  he's  the  real 
article,  serial  number  guaranteed  by  Uncle 
Jerry." 

1 '  No,  no !  "  squeals  Mildred,  covering  her 
face  with  her  hands  and  backin'  away. 
"  There's  been  some  dreadful  mistake!  That 
isn't  my  Hermes.  He  wasn't  at  all  like  that,  I 
tell  you,  not  at  all !  " 

Well,  we  was  grouped  there  in  the  hall  holdin' 
our  foolish  debate,  when  this  strange  gent 
strolls  by  huntin'  for  some  place  to  light  up  his 
cigarette.  And  just  as  one  of  us  mentions 
Hermes  again  I  notices  him  turn  and  prick  up 
his  ears.  Next  thing  I  knew,  he's  stepped  ovef 
and  is  lookin'  kind  of  smilin'  and  expectant  a-fc 
Mildred. 


292  TORCHY 

"  I  beg  pardon  if  I'm  wrong,"  says  he;  "  but 
isn't  this  the — er — ah — the  young  lady  whom  I 
had  the  pleasure  of— 

But  that's  enough  for  Millie,  just  hearin' 
his  voice.  Down  comes  her  hands  off  her  face. 
11  Oh,  I  knew  it!  I  knew  it!  "  she  squeals. 
"  Hermes!  " 

And,  say,  I  don't  know  how  that  old  Greek 
looked;  but  if  he  had  the  build  and  lines  of 
this  chap  he  sure  was  some  ornamental.  Any 
way,  the  one  we  had  with  us  would  have  been 
a  medal  winner  in  any  kind  of  clothes.  Also 
he  had  the  light  wavy  hair  and  the  dark  blue 
eyes  of  Millie's  description,  with  some  of  the 
vacation  tan  left  on  his  cheeks. 

Marjorie's  the  next  to  be  heard  from. 

"  Why,  Mr.  Brooke  Hartley!  "  says  she, 
stickin'  out  her  hand. 

"  By  Jove!  "  says  he.  "  Bob  Ellins'  little 
sister,  eh?  Hello,  Marjorie!  " 

"  Then — then —  -"  gasps  Mildred,  lookin' 
from  one  to  the  other  kind  of  dazed,  ' '  then  you 
aren't  a  lobster  man,  after  all?  " 

"  Nothing  so  useful  as  that,  I'm  afraid," 
says  Hartley. 

"  But  why  were  you  there  on  that  island!  ' 
she  insists. 

11  Well,"  says  he,  "  hay  fever  was  my  chief 
excuse.  I  pretend  to  paint  marines,  you  know, 
and  that's  another;  but  really  I  suppose  I  was 


HEEMES  ON  THE  BOUNCE    293 

just  being  lazy  and  enjoying  the  society  of 
Uncle  Jerry." 

"  But  he  isn't  your  uncle,  truly?  "  says 
Mildred. 

"  Well,"  says  Hartley,  "  it's  a  relationship 
I  share  with  most  of  the  summer  people  on  that 
section  of  the  Maine  coast." 

Then  a  light  seemed  to  break  on  Mildred. 
She  blushes  to  her  eartips  and  hides  her  face 
in  her  hands  once  more.  '  *  Oh,  oh !  "  she  groans. 
"  And  I  called  you  Hermes !  " 

"  You  did,"  says  he.  "  And  nothing  ever 
tickled  my  vanity  half  so  much.  I've  lived  on 
that  for  the  last  two  months.  Please  don't  take 
it  back!  " 

"  I — I  won't,"  says  Millie,  lettin'  loose  one 
of  them  rovin'  glances  at  him  sort  of  shy  and 
fetchin'. 

And,  say,  all  tinted  up  that  way,  you  could 
hardly  blame  him  for  grabbin'  both  her  hands. 
Not  knowin'  what  might  happen  next,  I  pro 
ceeds  to  break  in. 

"  In  the  meantime,"  says  I,  "  what '11  you 
have  done  with  this  perfectly  good  nephew  we've 
got  on  our  hands  back  there  on  the  bench!  ' 

' '  That  one !  ' '  says  Millie.  * '  Oh,  I  never 
want  to  see  him  again!  Tell  him  to  go  away 
and — and  go  to  bed." 

"  That'll  be  welcome  news  for  Jaky,  all 
right,"  says  I. 


CHAPTEE  XIX 

WHEN  MISS  VEE  THBEW  THE  DARE 

SAY,  I  guess  I  might  as  well  tell  it  right  out; 
for,  from  all  I  hear  about  myself,  my  dome 
must  have  a  glass  top  that  puts  all  the  inside 
works  on  exhibition.  There's  Zenobia,  for  in 
stance,  who's  my  half-step-adopted  aunt,  as 
you  might  say.  Now,  she  ain't  one  to  sleuth 
around,  or  cross-examine,  or  anything  like 
that;  but  what  she's  missed  of  this  little  affair 
that  I  ain't  breathed  a  word  of  to  anybody  is 
more'n  I've  got  the  nerve  to  ask. 

Course,  it  was  her  put  that  corkin'  silver 
frame  on  Vee's  picture  in  the  first  place.  Just 
found  it  on  my  bureau,  you  know,  and,  with 
out  pumpin'  me  for  any  account  of  who  and 
why,  goes  and  unbelts  reckless  for  the  sterling 
decoration.  A  perfectly  nice  old  girl,  Zeno 
bia  is,  if  you  ask  me.  More'n  a  year  ago  that 
was,  and  there  hasn't  been  a  word  passed  about 
that  photo  since. 

Yes,  it's  been  on  the  bureau  all  the  time. 
Why  not?  When  a  young  lady  friend  of  yours 
is  dragged  off  to  Europe  by  her  aunt,  and  sends 

294 


MISS  VEE  THROWS  THE  DARE     295 

you  a  stunnin'  picture  of  herself  for  you  to 
remember  her  by,  you  don't  turn  it  face  to  the 
wall  or  chuck  it  in  the  ashcan,  do  you?  Maybe 
two  years  it  would  be,  she  said,  before  she  came 
back.  It  ain't  so  long  to  look  over  your  shoul 
der  at;  but  when  you  come  to  try  squintin' 
ahead  that  far  it's  diff  'rent.  I  tried  it  and  gave 
it  up.  A  whole  lot  can  happen  in  two  years ;  so 
what  was  the  use?  Besides,  look  who  she  is, 
and  then  think  of  all  I  ain't! 

Couldn't  help  seein'  the  picture  there  night 
and  mornin',  though,  could  I?  Nothin'  mushy 
about  glancin'  casual  at  it  now  and  then,  was 
there?  You  know  I  ain't  got  any  too  many 
friends, — not  so  many  I  has  to  have  a  waitin' 
list, — and  outside  of  Zenobia  and  Aunt  Mar 
tha,  and  here  and  there  one  of  the  lady  type 
writers  at  the  office  that  throws  me  a  smile  on 
and  off,  they're  mostly  men.  And  as  for 
fam'ly,  mother,  or  father,  or  sisters,  or  broth 
ers,  or  real  aunts — well,  you  know  how  I'm 
fixed.  I'm  the  whole  fam'ly  myself. 

So  you  see,  when  I  looks  at  Miss  Vee  there, 
and  thinks  how  nice  she  was  to  me  them  two 
times  when  we  met  by  accident, — once  at  the 
dance  where  I  was  subbin'  in  the  cloakroom,  and 
again  at  the  tea  where  I'd  been  sent  to  trail 
Mr.  Robert — well,  even  if  she  hadn't  been  such 
a  queen,  I  don't  think  I'd  forgot  her  right 
away.  Course,  though,  as  for  figurin'  out  why 


296  TOECHY 

she  ever  noticed  me  at  all,  that's  a  myst'ry  I 
had  to  pass  up. 

Must  have  been  soon  after  she  went  away 
that  I  begun  sizin'  up  some  critical  the  gen'ral 
style  and  get  up  of  the  party  whose  hair  I  was 
comb  in'  and  whose  face  I  was  washin'  more  or 
less  reg'lar.  Startin'  with  the  collar,  I  dis 
covered  that  mine  gen 'rally  had  saw  edges, 
gaped  in  the  middle,  and  got  some  soiled  about 
the  third  day.  From  then  on  I've  been  particu 
lar  about  havin'  a  close  front  collar  and  put- 
tin'  on  a  fresh  one  every  mornin',  whether  I 
need  it  or  not.  Next  I  got  wise  to  the  fact 
that  one  tie  wouldn't  last  more'n  six  months 
without  showin'  signs  of  wear,  and  it  wa'n't 
long  before  I  had  quite  a  collection  hangin'  over 
the  gasjet.  Up  to  then  I  didn't  have  the  tooth 
powder  habit  very  strong ;  but  it 's  chronic  with 
me  now.  See  the  result? 

I  didn't  stop  to  give  myself  reasons  for  get- 
tin'  so  finicky;  but  the  one  main  fact  loomin'  up 
ahead  seemed  to  be  that  some  day  or  other  Miss 
Vee  would  be  comin'  back,  and  that  maybe  I 
might  be  on  hand  to  sort  of — well,  you  know 
how  you'll  frame  things  up?  I  was  to  be  vice 
president  of  the  Corrugated  by  that  time,  most 
likely,  and  they'd  be  sendin'  me  abroad  to  look 
up  important  matters.  That's  how  it  was  goin' 
to  happen  that  I'd  find  out  where  Vee  was 
stayin'.  Not  that  I'd  think  of  buttin'  in  on 


297 

her  and  the  aunt.  Not  much!  Just  remember 
I'd  seen  Aunty! 

No,  I  was  to  be  on  the  steamer,  leanin'  over 
the  rail  careless,  when  they  came  aboard  to  go 
home.  I  was  to  be  costumed  all  in  gray.  I 
don't  know  just  why;  but  it  looks  kind  of  dis 
tinguished,  specially  if  you've  got  gray  hair. 
Not  that  I  could  count  on  my  ruddy  thatch 
frostin'  up  much  in  a  couple  of  years;  but 
somehow  nothing  but  gray  seemed  to  fill  the 
bill.  I'd  planned  on  gettiri'  one  of  them  gray 
tweed  suits  such  as  Mr.  Robert  wears  back 
from  London,  and  a  long  gray  ulster  that'd 
make  me  look  tall,  and  a  gray  cloth  hat  to 
match,  and  gray  gloves.  Get  the  picture? 

Well,  there  I  am  by  the  rail,  lookin'  sort  of 
distinguished  and  bored  and  all  that,  when  up 
comes  Miss  Vee  and  Aunty.  All  I  could  think 
of  Vee  wearin'  was  that  pink  silk  affair  she 
had  on  at  the  dance,  which  wouldn't  be  exactly 
what  a  young  lady'd  start  out  on  an  ocean  trip 
with,  would  it? 

She'd  be  some  jarred  at  seein'  me,  it's  likely; 
but  I'd  lift  the  gray  Hd  real  dignified,  throw 
back  the  ulster  so  she'd  get  the  full  effect  of 
the  tweed  suit,  and  shoot  off  some  remark  about 
how  "  one  always  meets  one's  most  chawming 
friends  when  one  travels."  Then  I'd  be  pre 
sented  to  the  aunt ;  and  after  that  was  over,  why 
it  would  be  just  a  romp  down  the  home  stretch, 


298  TOECHY 

with  yours  truly  all  the  entry  in  sight.  Sim 
ply  a  case  of  me  and  Vee  promenadin'  the  deck 
by  moonlight  for  hours  and  hours,  and  gettin' 
to  be  real  old  friends. 

But  pipe  dreams  like  that  don't  often  come 
true,  do  they?  I  ain't  got  so  far  as  ownin'  a 
pair  of  gray  gloves,  and  not  a  word  has  been 
said  about  makin'  me  vice  president,  when 
along  comes  this  foreign  picture  postcard, 
showin'  the  Boss  de  Bologna  on  one  side,  and 
on  the  other  this  scribbled  message: 

We  sail  for  home  on  the  10th.    Rah!  Rah!    Count  Schlegel- 
hesseu  is  coming  over  with  us.    He's  a  dear.     V.  A.  H. 

Jolted!  Say,  I  was  up  and  down  so  many 
times  durin'  the  next  few  hours  I'd  most  meet 
myself  comin'  and  goin'.  Miss  Vee  was  on  her 
way  over!  I'd  bounce  at  that  thought,  and  get 
all  kind  of  warmed  up  inside.  Count  Schut- 
zenfest  is  coming  with  her,  and  he's  a  dear! 
Bang!  I'd  strike  bottom  again,  with  a  chilly 
feelin'  under  my  vest. 

Wa'n't  anything  more'n  I  might  have  looked 
for,  of  course.  Aunty's  one  of  the  kind  that 
would  pick  out  a  Count  for  Miss  Vee,  and  there 
was  plenty  of  Counts  over  there  to  be  picked; 
but  somehow  I  couldn't  picture  Vee  goin'  wild 
over  one  of  them  foreign  ginks.  It  was  clear 
she  had,  though.  There  it  was  on  the  postcard, 
"  He's  a  dear!  " 


"  Huh!  "  thinks  I.  "  Most  of  'em  are  dear 
— at  any  price." 

It  wa'n't  for  hours,  either,  that  I  simmers 
down  enough  for  the  thought  to  strike  me  that 
I  didn't  have  any  special  license  to  hold  a  court 
of  inquiry  over  whether  Miss  Vee  was  comin' 
back  with  a  Count  or  not.  After  that  I  had 
time  to  debate  with  myself  whether  I  ought  just 
to  forgive  and  forget,  goin'  through  life  cold 
and  sad;  or  if  I  should  hide  my  busted  heart 
the  best  way  I  could  and  pretend  I  didn't 
care. 

Was  there  any  use  in  my  goin'  down  to  the 
pier  and  standin'  in  the  background  to  watch 
her  come  ashore  with  her  dear  Count?  I  could 
see  myself!  Oh,  yes,  I  had  it  all  doped  out 
along  them  lines!  As  Robert  Mantell  would 
put  it  over,  "  She  has  went  out  of  muh  life 
for-r-r-rever."  Ah  yes!  I  could  have  stood 
for  anything  but  one  of  them  sausage  Counts. 

So  I  stows  her  picture  away  in  the  bottom 
bureau  drawer,  burns  the  postcard,  and  dodges 
Zenobia's  eye  when  she  looks  at  me  curious.  It 
was  all  over.  Yet  I  knew  to  an  hour  when  her 
steamer  would  dock,  and  the  mornin'  of  the 
day  it  was  due  I  rolls  out  of  the  feathers  at 
six  A.M.  Just  as  natural  as  could  be  too,  I  gets 
out  the  new  safety  razor  I'd  had  hid  away  for 
a  couple  of  months  past,  and  inside  of  fifteen 
minutes  I'd  had  my  first  shave.  Does  that 


300  TOECHY 

get  by  them  keen  eyes  of  Zenobia?  Not  for  a 
minute ! 

* '  Ah !  ' '  says  she,  pattin '  me  sort  of  casual 
on  one  cheek  as  she  conies  down  to  breakfast. 

That's  all;  but  she  not  only  takes  in  the 
shave,  but  the  best  blue  serge  suit  I've  put  on, 
and  the  birthday  tie,  and  the  Sunday  shoes.  I 
only  grins  sheepish  and  slides  out  as  soon  as 
I  can. 

You  see,  accordin'  to  my  plans,  I  wouldn't 
have  gone  near  that  steamer  for  any  sum  you 
could  name.  That  being  the  case,  it  was  odd 
I  should  call  up  the  pier  and  find  out  if  the 
boat  was  on  time  at  Quarantine.  Also  it  was 
some  strange  the  way  I  opened  up  on  Piddie. 

"  Say,  Mr.  Piddie,"  says  I,  "  any  prospects 
of  an  outside  run  for  me  to-day?  ' 

11  Not  in  the  least,"  says  he.  "  I  suppose, 
though,  you  would  like  a  chance  to  waste  some 
of  the  company's  time  on  the  street?  ' 

11  Me?  "  says  I.  "  Why,  I'd  hate  it.  I  was 
only  afraid  I'd  have  to  go,  with  all  this  inside 
work  to  be  done." 

"  Humph!  "  says  he.  "  You  needn't  fear. 
I  shall  see  that  nothing  of  the  sort  happens." 

"  Ah,  you're  a  bird,  you  are!  "  says  I. 

"  Perhaps,"  says  Piddie. 

"  Then  climb  a  tree  and  twitter,"  says  I; 
for  it  made  me  grouchy  to  think  I'd  let  a  bone- 
head  like  him  get  a  rise  out  of  me. 


MISS  VEE  THROWS  THE  DAEE     301 

The  more  I  chewed  it  over,  though,  the 
stronger  I  was  for  breakin'  loose  about  dockin' 
time.  Maybe  I  didn't  want  to  go  to  the  pier; 
but  if  he  was  bent  on  throwin'  the  gate  on  me, 
that  was  another  proposition.  I  got  sorer  and 
sorer  and  I  was  on  the  point  of  chuckin'  the  job 
at  Piddie's  head  and  walkin'  out  on  my  own 
hook,  when  who  should  come  stormin'  in, 
scowlin'  and  grumblin'  to  himself,  but  Mr. 
Eobert.  And  he  had  a  worse  attack  than  I 
did. 

"  Torchy,"  says  he,  wheelin'  around  half 
way  to  his  office,  "  ring  up  Pier  Umpty-nine 
and  find  out  when  that  blasted  steamer  is 
due." 

"  The  Kaiser  boat?  "  says  I.  "  She'll  dock 
about  two-forty-five. ' ' 

"  Eh?  "  says  he,  some  startled.  "  Now,  how 

the Never  mind,  though.  Sure  about  the 

time,  are  you?  ' 

"  Yep,"  says  I. 

"  Dash  it  all!  "  says  he.  "  That's  Marjorie, 
though!  Any  word  from  the  Consolidated 
Bridge  people  yet?  " 

"  Not  yet,"  says  I,  and  slam  goes  his  door. 

Took  me  three  minutes  by  the  clock  to  dope 
out  the  combination  too,  which  shows  how 
gummed  up  my  gears  was.  But  when  I'd  fit 
ted  them  two  remarks  together,  about  Marjorie 
and  the  bridge  people,  and  had  remembered  the 


A.    - 

302  TOECHY 

cablegram  from  Sister  Marjorie  sayin'  how 
their  party 'd  been  broken  up  on  account  of 
sickness  and  she  was  comin'  home  alone — why, 
it  was  all  like  readin'  it  off  a  bulletin.  Mar 
jorie  's  arrivin'  durin'  business  hours  was  likely 
to  mess  up  the  schedule.  Course,  if  the  bridge 
concern  didn't  send  word 

I'd  got  to  that  point,  when  in  drifts  my  old 
A.  D.  T.  runnin'  mate,  Hunch  Leary,  draggin' 
his  feet  behind  him  and  chewin'  gum  industri 
ous.  Now  Hunch  don't  look  like  a  tempter. 
He's  plain  homely,  that's  all.  But  comin'  just 
as  he  did,  with  Piddie  over  there  glarin'  at 
me  suspicious — well,  I  just  had  to  do  it. 

"  Sure  I  got  blanks  on  me?  "  says  Hunch. 
"  Wot  then?  " 

Bight  under  Piddie 's  nose  he  fixes  it  up  too, 
and  waits  while  I  takes  the  phony  message  in 
to  Mr.  Robert.  It  wa'n't  such  a  raw  one,  either; 
not  as  if  it  had  sent  him  off  to  wait  at  some 
hotel. .  '  *  Will  try  to  get  around  about  two- 
thirty  Trimble,"  was  all  it  said.  And  how  did 
we  know  Trimble  wouldn't  try,  anyway? 

"  That  settles  it,"  says  Mr.  Robert,  crum- 
plin'  the  yellow  sheet.  "  Torchy,  you  must  do 
the  family  honors." 

11  Do  which?  "  says  I,  with  business  of  great 
surprise. 

"  Meet  my  sister  Marjorie,  see  that  she  gets 
through  the  customs  without  landing  in  jail, 


MISS  VEE  THEOWS  THE  DAEE    303 

and  take  her  home  in  a  taxi.  Think  you're 
equal  to  it,  eh?  "  says  he. 

"  I  could  make  a  stab,"  says  I. 

"  I'll  risk  that  much,"  says  he. 

And  before  there's  any  chance  for  a  revise 
I've  marched  by  Piddie  with  my  tongue  out 
and  am  pikin'  towards  the  North  Elver  with 
a  pier  pass  in  one  pocket  and  expense  money  in 
another,  specially  commissioned  to  meet  the 
very  steamer  that's  bringin'  in  Miss  Vee  and 
her  Count.  All  of  which  shows  how  curious 
things  will  coincide  if  you  use  your  bean  a  lit 
tle  to  help  'em  along. 

Well,  you  know  how  it  is  waitin'  in  a  push 
of  people  for  a  steamer.  Everybody's  excited 
and  anxious  and  keyed  up,  ready  to  jump  at 
every  whistle,  and  stretchin'  their  necks  for  a 
peek  down  the  river.  It's  as  catchin'  as  the 
baseball  fever  when  you're  in  a  mob  watchin' 
the  scores  posted.  I  finds  myself  actin'  just 
as  eager  as  any,  and  me  only  doin'  messenger 
work. 

Finally  the  boat  shows  up;  but  instead  of 
sailin'  in  graceful  and  prompt,  she  shuts  off 
steam  and  lays  to  out  in  the  middle  of  the  river, 
about  as  lifeless  as  a  storage  warehouse  afloat, 
while  a  dozen  or  so  dinky  tugs  begin  pushin' 
and  pullin'  to  get  her  somewhere  near  the  pier. 
Then  folks  start  makin'  wild  guesses  as  to 
which  is  their  friends. 


304  TOECHY 

"  There's  Uncle  Fred,  Willie!"  squeals  a 
fat  woman  next  to  me,  proddm5  me  vigorous  in 
the  ribs. 

11  Not  mine,  ma'am,"  says  I. 

"  Oh,  excuse  me,"  says  she.  "  Why,  there's 
Willie,  over  there.  Hey,  Willie!  See  Uncle 
Fred!  " 

It  was  that  way  all  around  me,  and  me  not 
even  doin '  the  wave  act.  After  awhile  though,  I 
spots  Marjorie.  There  was  no  doubt  about 
it  being  her;  for  she  looms  up  among  that 
crowd  along  the  rail  like  a  prize  Florida  orange 
in  a  basket  of  lemons.  It's  plain  Marjorie 
ain't  lost  any  weight  by  her  trip  abroad,  and 
she  looks  more  like  a  corn  fed  Juliet  than  ever. 

As  she  wa'n't  expectin'  me,  but  was  huntin' 
for  Brother  Kobert,  I  didn't  see  the  sense  in 
shoutin'.  I  went  on  lookin'  over  the  rest  of 
the  passengers,  sort  of  bracin'  myself  for  any 
discovery  I  might  make.  Would  they  show  up 
arm  in  arm,  or  with  their  heads  close  together, 
or  how? 

I'd  looked  the  boat  over  from  bow  to  stern 
and  back  again  about  three  times  before  I  hap 
pens  to  take  another  glance  at  Marjorie.  And 
there,  almost  hid  by  one  side  of  her,  was  a 
young  lady  in  a  white  sailor  hat  with  some 
straw  colored  hair  showin'  under  the  wide 
brim,  and  a  pair  of  gray  eyes  that  I  couldn't 
mistake  anywhere.  It  was  Vee,  all  right;  just 


MISS  VEE  THROWS  THE  DAKE    305 

as  slim  and  graceful  and  classy  as  ever,  with 
the  same  independent  tilt  to  her  chin,  and  the 
same  Mayflower  pink  showin'  in  her  cheeks. 

And,  say,  I  want  to  tell  you  that  about  then 
I  was  glad  I  came!  It  didn't  make  any 
difference  if  there  was  half  a  dozen  Counts,  and 
a  Duke  and  what  not  besides;  just  seein'  her 
once  more,  even  if  I  didn't  get  a  chance  to  put 
over  a  word,  was  worth  while.  And  right  there 
I  makes  up  my  mind  that,  Count  or  no  Count, 
I'm  goin'  to  push  to  the  front. 

' '  Oh,  you  Miss  Vee !  "  I  megaphones  through 
my  hands,  just  as  enthusiastic  as  anybody  on 
the  pier. 

About  the  third  call  catches  her  ear.  She 
sort  of  starts  and  gazes  at  the  crowd  kind  of 
puzzled.  There's  such  a  mob,  though,  she  don't 
pick  me  out.  I  could  see  her  turn  to  Marjorie 
and  say  something,  and  then  I  gets  wise  to  the 
fact  that  the  four-eyed  gent  with  the  bristly 
hair  and  the  half  gray  set  of  shavin'  brush  mus 
taches,  standin'  next  to  Marjorie,  was  one  of 
their  party.  Miss  Vee  leans  over  and  passes 
along  some  remark  to  him,  and  he  shrugs  his 
shoulders  and  says  something  that  makes  'em 
both  laugh. 

"If  that's  the  Count,"  thinks  I,  "he's  a 
punk  specimen." 

A  couple  of  minutes  later  the  boat  comes 
alongside  and  the  passengers  break  away  from 


306  TOECHY 

the  rail  to  get  in  line  for  the  gangplank.  As 
I'm  there  to  welcome  Miss  Marjorie  Ellins,  I 
has  to  post  myself  near  the  E  section,  and  in 
side  of  fifteen  minutes  she's  all  through  havin' 
her  suitcase  and  steamer  trunk  pawed  over,  and 
leavin'  the  hold  baggage  to  be  claimed  later, 
we  streams  out  to  where  I  had  a  cab  waitin'. 

"  Is  it  all  aboard,  Miss  Marjorie  1  "  says  I. 

"  Not  yet,"  says  she.  "  You  see,  I've  asked 
Vee  to  come  home  with  me  for  dinner — the  girl 
I  met  on  the  steamer.  You  don't  mind  waiting, 
do  you?  " 

Did  I?  Say,  nobody  would  suspect  it,  I 
guess,  by  the  grin  I  had  on  when  she  and  Aunty 
and  the  four-eyed  party  comes  trailin'  out. 

"  Say,  Miss  Marjorie,"  says  I,  "is  that 
Count  Schutzenbund?  " 

"  Schlegelhessen,"  says  Marjorie,  "  and  he's 
a  perfect " 

"  Yes,  I've  heard  he  was,"  says  I.  "  Little 
antique,  though,  ain't  he?  " 

"Why,  he  isn't  forty!"  says  Marjorie. 
"  And  he's  just  too " 

There  wa'n't  time  for  any  more  bouquets, 
though;  for  the  trio  was  too  close.  Must  have 
been  some  of  a  surprise  for  Vee  to  see  me 
waitin'  there,  and  for  a  bit  she  don't  seem 
to  make  out  just  who  it  is.  That  only  lasts  a 
second,  though.  Then  them  gray  eyes  of  hers 
lights  up,  and  them  thin  lips  curls  into  a  smile, 


and  she  holds  out  both  hands  in  that  quick  way 
of  hers. 

"  Why,  it's  Torchy,  isn't  it?  "  says  she,  half 
laughin'. 

"  Uh-huh,"  says  I,  lettin'  the  grin  spread 
wider.  "  Can't  shake  the  name  or  the  hair." 

11  Never  try,"  says  she.  "  Look,  Aunty, 
here's  Torchy!  " 

"  Torchy?  "  says  the  wide  old  girl,  inspectin' 
me  doubtful  through  her  lorgnette.  "  Why, 
Verona,  I  don't  remember " 

"  Oh,  yes,  you  do,  Aunty,"  says  Miss  Vee. 
"  Anyway,  I've  told  you  about  him,  and  it's  so 
jolly  to  have  some  one  to  meet  us.  Thank  you, 
Torchy.  Now  let's  see,  Marjorie,  how  do  we 
divide  up  ?  Aunty  goes  to  her  hotel — and — and 
where  do  you  go,  Count!  ' 

11  Me,  I  am — what  you  call — perplex,"  says 
the  Count,  and  he  sure  looked  it.  "  But  where 
the  young  ladies  go,  there  I  will  follow. 
Hein?  " 

He  shrugs  his  shoulders  again  and  puts  on 
such  a  comical  face  that  it's  no  wonder  the  girls 
giggled.  And  that  one  act  maps  out  the  Count 
for  me.  He's  just  one  of  them  middle  aged 
cut-ups  that's  amusin'  to  have  around,  if  the 
sessions  ain't  too  frequent.  Follow  the  young 
ladies,  would  he!  Say,  there  was  only  three 
inside  seats  to  my  taxi,  and  I  hadn't  planned 
on  ridin'  with  the  driver. 


308  TOECHY 

"  Lemme  fix  that  for  you,  Count,"  says  I. 
"  Hey,  Cabby!  "  and  I  whistles  up  a  second 
taxi.  "  What's  the  number,  ma 'am  I  "  I  asks 
of  Aunty.  "  Oh,  Perzazzer  hotel.  Get  that, 
Mr.  Snuffer?  Here  you  are,  Count,  right  in 
here!  " 

"  But  is  it  that — er — the  young  ladies,  you 
see,"  he  protests.  "  I  haf  bromise  myself  the 
bleasure  to " 

"  Yes,  that'll  be  all  right  too,"  says  I. 
"  They'll  do  the  folio  win',  though,  about  a 
block  behind.  In  you  go,  now!  "  and  I  shoves 
him  alongside  of  Aunty,  shuts  the  door,  and 
gives  the  startin'  signal. 

Maybe  it  was  a  nervy  thing,  shuntin'  the 
Count  off  like  that,  and  Marjorie  seems  sort 
of  disappointed  and  dazed  to  find  he  ain't 
comin'  with  us,  but  by  the  twinkle  in  Miss  Vee's 
eyes  I  guessed  I  hadn't  overplayed  my  part. 
Anyway,  we  had  a  nice  chatty  ride  on  the  way 
up,  with  Marjorie  doin'  most  of  the  chattin'. 
Looked  like  that  was  going  to  be  about  as  far 
as  I'd  figure  too,  for  there  wa'n't  a  chance  of 
my  gettin'  a  word  in  edgewise;  but  when  we 
fetched  up  in  front  of  the  Ellins'  house  Miss 
Vee  breaks  in  with  delay  orders. 

11  No,  Marjorie,"  says  she;  "  you  first.  Eun 
in  and  see  if  it's  all  right;  and  if  there  isn't 
a  dinner  party  on,  or  a  houseful  of  guests,  I'll 
come.  No,  I  shall  wait  until  you  do." 


MISS  VEE  THEOWS  THE  DAEE    309 

Course,  she  didn't  plan  it  that  way;  but  it 
gives  me  about  six  minutes  that  was  all  to 
the  good. 

"  You  didn't  mind  my  sidetrackin'  the  Count, 
eh?  "  says  I. 

"  It  was  lovely — and  perfectly  absurd!  " 
says  Vee.  "  You  know  he  bores  Aunty  to 
death,  and  Aunty  bores  him.  He  had  planned 
on  meeting  Marjorie's  mother,  too." 

"  Then  I  mussed  things  up,  didn't  I?  " 
says  I. 

"  I  believe  you  did  it  purposely,  you 
wretch!  "  says  she,  shakin'  a  finger  at  me. 

"  Who  wouldn't?  "  says  I.  "  See  what  I 
get  by  it!  " 

"  Silly!  "  says  she.  "  I've  a  mind  to  rum 
ple  those  red  curls." 

"  Go  on,"  says  I,  takin'  my  hat  off.  "  They'd 
wiggle  for  joy." 

"  Then  I'll  do  nothing  of  the  kind,"  says 
she.  "  You  haven't  even  said  you  were  glad 
to  see  me." 

"  I'm  keepin'  it  a  dead  secret,"  says  I. 
"  What  happened  to  Europe;  was  it  on  the 
fritz?  " 

"  Poky,"  says  she.  "  And  they  found  out 
I  was  no  musical  genius,  after  all.  Aunty's 
disgusted  with  me." 

"  She  ought  to  take  something  for  hen 
taste,"  says  I. 


310  TOECHY 

"Oh!"  says  she,  til  tin'  her  head  on 
one  side.  "  Then  you  still  approve  of 
me?  " 

"  That's  the  only  motto  on  my  wall,"  says 
I,  "  only  I  put  it  stronger." 

'  *  Silly !  ' '  says  she  once  more. 

And  then — well,  I  was  watchin'  the  pink 
spread  up  her  cheeks,  and  was  sort  of  gazin' 
into  them  big  gray  eyes,  and  gen 'rally  takin' 
one  of  them  long,  lingerin'  looks;  and  we  was 
both  leanin'  back  not  so  very  far  apart,  with 
the  slides  of  the  cab  shuttin'  everything  else 
out — and  then  all  of  a  sudden  I  heard  her  sort 
of  whisper  ' '  Well  ?  ' ' — and — and—  Ah,  say ! 
With  a  pair  of  cherry  ripes  as  close  as  that, 
what  else  was  there  to  do? 

"  Why,  Torchy!  "  says  she,  jumpin'  away. 

"  What  made  you  dare Quick,  now,  here 

comes  Marjorie.  Over  on  the  front  seat !  And 
— and  perhaps  I  shall  see  you  again  some 
time.  ' ' 

"  Your  eye  sight '11  be  bad  if  you  don't,  Vee," 
says  I.  "  Good-by." 

Just  before  the  Ellin s'  front  door  closed 
behind  her  I  caught  the  wave  of  a  handker 
chief;  so  I  guess  she  can't  be  so  awful  mad. 
Eide  back  to  the  office?  Say,  I  paid  off  the 
taxi  and  floated  down  Fifth-ave.  as  light  as  if 
it  was  paved  with  gas  balloons. 

"  Huh!  "  grunts  Mr.  Eobert,  after  I'd  made 


MISS  VEE  THROWS  THE  DAEE    311 

my  report.    "  Brought  home  a  steamer  friend, 
did  she!    Who  did  you  say  it  was?  " 

"  Well,  between  you  and  me,"  says  I,  "  it's 
Vee.  You  remember — the  one  at  the  girls' 
boardin'  school  tea  party  when " 


1 1 


Eh?  "  says  he.  "  Ah,  that  one?  Then  it 
wasn't — er — exactly  a  hardship  for  you  to  meet 
this  particular  steamer,  eh,  Torchy?  " 

"  Do  I  look  it?  "  says  I. 

And  Mr.  Robert  he  winks  back ;  for,  as  I  hap 
pen  to  know,  he's  been  there  himself.  It's  that 
friendly  wink  though,  that  makes  me  remember 
puttin'  up  that  game  on  him  with  the  fake  mes 
sage,  and  somehow  I  felt  cheap  and  mean. 
Here  he  was,  treatin'  me  white  and  square,  and 
I'd  been  handin'  him  a  piece  of  fresh  bunk. 

"  Mr.  Robert,"  says  I,  standin'  pigeontoed 
and  flushin'  up  some,  "  you  remember  that  mes 
sage  from  the  bridge  people — Trimble,  it  was 
signed?  " 

"  Oh,  yes,"  says  he.  "  He  came,  all  right, 
about  a  quarter  to  three." 

' '  Gee !  ' '  says  I,  and  walks  out. 

For  when  things  start  comin'  your  way  in 
clusters  like  that,  what's  the  use  tryin'  to  duck? 


STORIES    OF    RARE    CHARM    BY 

GENE  STRATTQN-PQRTER 

May  be  had  wherever  books  are  sold.      Ask  for  Grosset  and  Dunlap's  list. 

THE  HARVESTER 
Illustrated  by  W.  L.  Jacobs 

"The  Harvester,"  David  Langston,  is 
a  man  of  the  woods  and  fields,  who  draws 
his  living  from  the  prodigal  hand  of  Mother 
Nature  herself.  If  the  book  had  nothing  in 
it  but  the  splendid  figure  of  this  man,  with 
his  sure  gnp  on  life,  his  superb  optimism, 
and  his  almost  miraculous  knowledge  of 
nature  secrets,  it  would  be  notable.  But 
when  the  Girl  comes  to  his  "Medicine 
Woods,"  and  the  Harvester's  whole  sound, 
healthy,  large  outdoor  being  realizes  that 
this  is  the  highest  point  of  life  which  has 
come  to  him  —  there  begins  a  romance, 
troubled  and  interrupted,  yet  of  the  rarest  idyllic  quality. 

FRECKLES.       Decorations  by  E.  Stetson  Crawford 

Freckles  is  a  nameless  waif  when  the  tale  opens,  but  the  way  in 
which  he  takes  hold  of  life;  the  nature  friendships  he  forms  in  the 
great  Limberlost  Swamp;  the  manner  in  which  everyone  who  meets 
him  succumbs  to  the  charm  of  his  engaging  personality;  and  his  love- 
story  with  "The  Angel"  are  full  of  real  sentiment. 

A  GIRL  OF  THE  LIMBERLOST. 

Illustrated  by  Wladyslaw  T.  Brenda. 

The  story  of  a  girl  of  the  Michigan  woods;  a  buoyant,  lovable 
type  of  the  self-reliant  American.  Her  philosophy  is  onte  of  love  and 
kindness  towards  all  things;  her  hope  is  never  dimmed.  And  by  the 
sheer  beauty  of  her  soul,  and  the  purity  of  her  vision,  she  wins  from 
barren  and  unpromising  surroundings  those  rewards  of  tiigh  courage. 

It  is  an  inspiring  story  of  a  life  worth  while  and  the  rich  beauties 
of  the  out-of-doors  are  strewn  through  all  its  pages. 

AT  THE  FOOT  OF  THE  RAINBOW. 

Illustrations  in  colors  by  Oliver  Kemp.    Design  and  decorations  bj 
» Ralph  Fletcher  Seymour. 

The  scene  of  this  charming,  idyllic  love  story  is  laid  in  Central 
Indiana.  The  story  is  one  of  devoted  friendship,  and  tender  self- 
sacrificing  love;  the  friendship  that  gives  freely  without  return,  and 
the  love  that  seeks  first  the  happiness  of  the  object.  The  novel  is 
brimful  of  the  most  beautiful  word  painting  of  nature,  and  its  pathos 
and  tender  sentiment  will  endear  it  to  all. 

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GROSSET  &  DUNLAP,  526  WEST  26th  ST.,  NEW  YORK 


JOHN  FOX,  JR'S. 

STORIES   OF  THE   KENTUCKY  MOUNTAINS 

May  be  had  wherever  books  are  sold.       Ask  for  Grosset  and  Dnnlap's  list. 

JTHE  TRAIL   OF  THE    LONESOME   PINE. 
Illustrated  by  F.  C.  Yohn. 

The  "lonesome  pine"  from  which  the 
story  takes  its  name  was  a  tall  tree  that 
stood  in  solitary  splendor  on  a  mountain 
top.  The  fame  of  the  pine  lured  a  young 
engineer  through  Kentucky  to  catch  the 
trail,  and  when  he  finally  climbed  to  its 
shelter  he  found  not  only  the  pine  but  the 
footprints  of  a  girl.  And  the  girl  proved 
to  be  lovely,  piquant,  and  the  trail  of 
these  girlish  foot-prints  led  the  young 
engineer  a  madder  chase  than  "the  trail 
of  the  lonesome  pine." 

THE  LITTLE  SHEPHERD  OF  KINGDOM  COME 
Illustrated  by  F.  C.  Yohn. 

This  is  a  story  of  Kentucky,  in  a  settlement  known  as  "King' 
dom  Come."  It  is  a  life  rude,  semi-barbarous;  but  natural 
and  honest,  from  which  often  springs  the  flower  of  civilization. 

"  Chad."  the  "little  shepherd"  did  not  know  who  he  was  nor 
whence  he  came — he  had  just  wandered  from  door  to  door  since 
early  childhood,  seeking  shelter  with  kindly  mountaineers  who 
gladly  fathered  and  mothered  this  waif  about  whom  there  was 
such  a  mystery — a  charming  waif,  by  the  way,  who  could  play 
the  banjo  better  that  anyone  else  in  the  mountains, 

A  KNIGHT   OF  THE    CUMBERLAND. 
Illustrated   by  F.  C.  Yohn. 

The  scenes  are  laid  along  the  waters  of  the  Cumberland* 
*the  lair  of  moonshiner  and  feudsman.  The  knight  is  a  moon 
shiner's  son,  and  the  heroine  a  beautiful  girl  perversely  chris 
tened  "The  Blight."  Two  impetuous  young  Southerners'  fall 
under  the  spell  of  "The  Blight's  "  charms  and  she  learns  what 
a  large  part  jealousy  and  pistols  have  in  the  love  making  of  the 
mountaineers. 

Included  in  this  volume  is  "  Hell  fer-Sartain"  and  other 
stories,  some  of  Mr.  Fox's  most  entertaining  Cumberland  valley 
narratives. 

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